LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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THE 



SPIRITUALIST; 

A Comedy in Four Acts, 



■BY y- 



JOSEPH HABION BAKEE. 



The Peculiarities of Individualr Have Ever Furnishep 

1 HEMES FOR THE MuSE OF COMEDY.— ^n07iyWf)W«. 



Grrand Rapids, Michigan, 1882. 



H. H. COLESTOOK, PRINTER, No. 2 PEARL STREET, 
UP STAIRS. 



TSIE 



SPIRITUALIST; 



■A- 



COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS, 



-BY 



JOSEPH MARION BAKER 






The Peculiahities of Individuals have ever Furnished 
Themes foe the Muse of Comedy. — Anonymous. 



Bntered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 

1881, BY 

JOSEPH MARION BAKER, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at 
Washington. 



V-- 



\SS^ 



TO 

MY FATHEE, 

ABRAM BAKER, M. D., 
OF Good Hope, Ohio, 
THIS COMEDY IS INSCRIBED. 



THE 

SFII?.ITXJAI-.IST, 

A COMEDY IX FOUR ACTS. 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 

Amlntdab Dorkins otherwise ^Ir. Quattlewich, a spiritualist 
who is President of tke Hodwag *&: Southwestern Railroad 
Company. 

Mrs. DorkdsS, wife of Aminidab Dorkins. 

]SIr. JuisKiNGsoN, a farmer. 

Mrs. Ju^skln-gson. wife of Mr. Junkingson. 

Melissa, a single lady, who is a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. 
Junkingson. 

Aunt Sally, a rich mischievous widow. 

Spriggdss, a student at Mrs. Spankington's Academy. 

Gall, a book-agent and detective. 

Sheldox, a peddlA- of pictures. 

Betson, a farmer. 

Bartlett, a Justice-of-the-Peace. 

Psycho, a fiend . 

Ghosts, Devtls and Angels. 



THE 

SPIRITUALIST. 



ACT I.— Scene I. 

Discovered a room in Mr. Junkingsoii's residence, Aunt Holly 
churning and Miss Melissa Junkingson reading a pictorial 
paper. 

Melissa, Oh dear! Auut Sally! have you seen my sweet little 
dog Jewel? I believe some one has killed him. He had such a 
melancholy air, during the last few days, that 1 think he had a 
presentiment of his approaching fate. 

Aunt tially. I haven't seen your delestable poodle lately. 
One would think that you must be a victim of hydrophobia, 
since you can talk of nothing but your dog. I wish old Quattle- 
wich had the hydrophobia, because he is an unmitigated nui- 
sance. 

Melissa, Oh dear! Aunt Sally! you do talk awfully. Mr. 
Quattlewich is the most tender and the most ohivalric gentle- 
man that ever came to our township; and he told me last night 
that he loved me for my sense and beauty, and I believe 
him. • 

Aunt Sally. Melissa! you are a dunce of a queer kind. 1 
tell you old Quattlewich loves your property, but cares no more 
for your person than I do for a king of Central Africa. 

Melissa. Oh horrid! horrid! Your language penetrates my 
soul wiih the acidity of a crab-apple. 

Aunt Sfllly. Acidity of fudge! Melissa, you are too easily 
imposed on. 

Melissa. Did you never hear him tell about his campaigns in 
Central Africa? — how he espoused the cause of the Pigmies, 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 



during their wars witli the giants, and killed fourteen giants 
with his own hands, in one fight, while the tearful rescued 
maidens hung upon his accents likc-r-like — 

Aunt Sally. Like a turkey-buzzard on a dead horse. How 
dark he is ! 

Melissa. His dark complexiou was caused by the smoke of 
battle; there's where he turned dark. 

Aunt S. There's where he turned pale. 

Melissa. Oh you irreclaimable cynic! How I do love you ! 
A kiss. Aunt! a kiss! \ Kissing Aunt Sally. 

Aunt S. Melissa, do you know that the perseverence of this 
milk, which I am churning, does astonish the xVmerican people? 
I have been pounding this milk ever since George Washington 
was an infant ; and there is no sign of butter ; but the contents 
of the churn are as thin as Quattlewich's mustache. Come! 
niece! We'll get some warm water. [Exeunt. 

Enter Spriggins, carrying Jeicel a dead dog. 

Spriggins. Hem! ahem! An elderly female that churns col- 
ored water two hours, hoping to convert it into butter. A sen- 
timental single lady; and a modest youth called Spriggins. 
That's I. I have such an angelical disposition that I smell more 
sweetly than a female singing class. However, I didn't learn 
vocal music at Sing Sing; but Quattlewich did, I think. Just 
two hours ago, according to my chronometer, I poured nearly 
all the milk out of the churn, and almost filled it with water; 
and Aunt Sally has been churning that whitened water, not 
knowing what I did. Two hours are long enough to have pro- 
duced fishes, if not butter. Here is Melissa's dog Jewel. He is 
as dead as the ancient Egyptians; and I killed him. I'll put 
him in the churn, and tell Melissa that her lover Quattlewich 
killed the dog and placed him there. She loves her dog! How 
mad she will be at Quattlewich. [Putting the dog in the churn.] 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 



There now; he will have the advantage of a water-cure estab- 
lishment. 

Enter Mr. Quattlewich. 

Mr. Q. Spriggius! what have you been doiog? 

JSpriggins. Mr. Quattlewich, I have been studyiug a form of 
prayer suitable for public gatherings. 

Mr. Q. Spriggius, why didn't you ask my advice about it? 
1 have sufficient knowledge to instruct even the clergy in such 
matters? 

8pH(jgiiu. Why! Mr. Quattlewich! I ^thought you were a 
philosopher and writer; but I had no idea that you were a theo- 
logian also. 

Mr. Q. I am deeply read in Christian theology, and my 
judgment is always correct. But I believe only what the spir- 
itual mediums tell me about man «nd his duties and the future 
world. 

Sprig. Mr. Quattlewich, you should be sent as United States 
minister to Archangel, Russia. 

Mr. Q. Why! that is on the borders of a frosty sea. 

bprig. Rather a cool assertion, I know, sir. 

Mr. Q. [angrilg.] Where's my cane? Where's my cane? 

[Exit 

Stprig. If old Quattlewich cane me, I'll be revenged. He 
shall never marry Melissa whether he strike me or not. 

Enter Aunt Sally and Melissa. 

[Aunt S. bears a pitcher containing water ^ toliicJi s7ie pours into 
the churn.'] 

Melissa. Oh dear! what has happened to my poor little dog 
Jewel? How I miss his affectionate eyes! 

Sprig. Melissa, I'll tell you who killed your dog Jewel, pres- 
ently. [Exit. 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Melissa. Dead! oh, what a blow! 

Aunt S. How hard and heavy this milk has become! Some 
one must have been churning it while we were out. [Peers into 
the churn.] How white the butter is! I shall never be able to 
find a market for this butter in the republic of the United States. 

Melissa. What is the trouble? 

Aunt 8. Oh, dear me! a dead dog in the churn! 

Melissa. It is my dear dog Jewel. Oh! the affectionate 
martyr! How can I behold his saintly, loved remains! I recall 
the words of the royalist bard: "The glories of our earthly 
state are shadows, not substantial things. There is no armor 
against Fate. Death lays his icy hand on kings." 

Aunt 8. I don't see any appropriateness in applying such 
sublime poetry to the death of a dog. Jewel wasn't a king. 

Melissa. No. But the principle is the same. 

Au?it 8. I don't doubt the truth of your assertion; for some 
kings have no more principle than a poodle. 

Melissa. Oh, horrid! horrid! You are crusty because you 
can't make butter, this morning. But I love you still. A kiss, 
Aunt Sally! A kiss! [Kissing Aunt 8. 

Aunt 8. Don't be too affectionate. Who could have killed 
the dog? 

Melissa. I don't know. 

Aunt 8. Neither do I. 

Enter Spriggins. 

Melissa. My poor little canine friend shall haunt his mur- 
derer, and disturb him by nightly barking. I would not have 
Jewel bite him; but I would desire to see Jewel snap at him, 
and frighten him. 

8prig. If you two will not tell who told you, I will tell you 
who killed the dog Jewel. 

Aunt 8. I'll never tell. 

Melissa. I'll keep it as a secret. 



10 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



JSprig.—Mw Quattlewich killed Melissa's dog Jewel. I saw 
bim do the bloody deed. Melissa, ask him to kiss the dead dog. 
If he will not kiss him, it will be a proof that he is guilty of 
his death and his coDScience smites him. 

Melissa. Oh! Spriggins! I can't believe that Mr. Quattlewich 
killed him. He was alw^ays so tender and devoted to me that I 
believe he couldn't have been so cruel. Oh, my Jewel! My dog! 
my dog! my dog! 

Aunt S. This is the first time I ever saw the dog days come 
in this manuer. Ha! ha! ha! [Exit. 

Si^rig. Will you bury Jewel, your sweet pet poodle, and 
engrave on his tonibstcne a dog's paw pointing up to Heaven! 

Mel. Oh, horrid! horrid! 1 haven't felt so badly since I 
graduated at the high school. 

Sprig. I love you, Melissa. 

Mel. And I love the dog. 

Sprig. Good-bye! kind young lady. [Exit^ 

Mel. Ah, my dog! My unfortunate martyr! How 1 loved 
him! 

Ent^ir Mr. QrATTLEWiCH. 

Mr. Q. — Happiness consists in an appreciation of the smaller 
blessings of life. What causes you so much grief? 

Mel. Oh, dear me! Jewel is dead. 

Mr. Q. What ! Who killed your dog? 

Mel. Mr. Quattlewich! I was told that you did. But I can 
hardly believe it. 

Mr. Q—l kill a poodle! Melissa, do you think that the Pres- 
ident of the Hodwag & Southwestern Railroad Company could 
descend to such a petty act as the slaying of a dog? 

Md. Oh, what a fate! 

3Jr. Q. Had I killed the dog, I should think that I must 
have been under the influence of an evil spirit at the time I did 
the deed. Melissa, will you believe me when I say that I didn't 
destroy your unfortunate quadrui>cd mammal? 



THE SPIRITUALIST. H 



Mel. Mr. Quattlewich! if you say that you didn't kill my dog 
Jewel, I can't doubt your statement. 

Mr. Q. Some scientists think thut do2;s may be our humble 
relatives; but I cannot believe them. 

Mel. What do the mediums sjiy about death? 

Mr. Q. ]\Iuch that is consolatory. 

Mel. Do you believe in spiritualism? 

Mr. Q. I do. [Science in vain searches the distant past, and 
in the deposits of a frosty age seeks to discover the origin of the 
human race; but science cannot penetrate to the world of 
ghosts, but spiritualism can. A gentle rap upon a table makes 
known the presence of the souls of the dead. The ghosts of 
our dead relatives often take complete possession of us; and thus 
it often happens that, w^hen we think we are ourselves, we are 
really only our own great-grandfathers or great-grandmothers. 
Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother, I love you still. 

Mel Do you love me more than you do your grandmother? 

Mr. Q. Hem! hem! hem! A delicate question! A delicate 
question, my dear. When 1 was born, the spirit of Marcus 
Aurelius told the ghost of Blackhawk that a sweet angel stated 
to him that Love was destined to be my arbitrary ruler. That 
tyrant now rules me. When I was in central Africa, I observed 
that courtship oniong the savage Niam-Niam (gnam-gnam) was 
very peculiar. I have been a great traveler; and have beheld 
many wild scenes and some bloody ones. Melissa, do you love 
me? 

Mel. Some, maybe. I cannot say that I am deeply in love 
with you; but every time I see your sweet expressive eyeslwish 
I was. But my dog! oh my dog! I must go, and weep alone. 

[Exit. 

Mr. Q. What a dunce Melissa is! But she has property. Ah! 
she has property. She will be an odd helpmeet for a philosophi- 
cal gentleman such as I. But she will be easily governed. 



12 

Enter Betson. 

Betson. Mr. Quattlewich, as I was coming to mill, I thought 
I would call and ascertain if you wish to get any more potatoes. 

Mr. Q. Sir, I don't desire any more. You brought m\ house- 
keeper six bushels before; and at least a dozen of them were 
unfit for use. Six bushels, at fifty cents a bushel, would bring 
you three dollars; but 1 must deduct twenty-cents for the dozen 
that were rotten. I do this not for the sake of the money I 
save, but to teach you to do better in the future. 

Betson. Sir, you are a pompous, superstitious, gullible miser. 

Enter Sprig gins. 

Mr. Q. \^To Betson.'] You rustic calamity, I'll fix you. You 
insolent trickster. [Beating Betson. 

[Exeunt Quattlewich and Betson. 

Sprig. The visionary's theory is true. Man descended from 
the ancestors of the ayes and monkeys; and some men disgrace 
their ancestors. I'll place an iceberg between Quattlewich and 
Melissa. I'll convince her yet that he killed her pet dog Jewel. 
Old Quattlewich is too mean to become a good husband for 
Melissa, and he shall never marry her. Here is Quattlewich's 
carpet-sack. I'll examine it. [Opening the carpet-sack, he 
takes letters therefrom and reads them.] I see, in these letters, 
that Quattlewich's real name is Aminidab Dorkins. He has a 
living wife; and he was in this country on the very days which 
he claims were spent by him in Africa. Mr. Quattlewich. you 
never danced round dances, in Central Africa, with a hippo- 
potamus for a partner. A lady named Dorkins is stopping at 
that summer resort, the Empire Hotel. She bears Quattle- 
wich's real name, Dorkins, and mny be his wife. I'll send her 
a note. [Replacing the letters. 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Enter Quattlewich, Melissa, Aunt Sally and 

Mr. JUNKINGSON. 

Mr. Q. It occurred just as I tell j'ou. We had left the Nile 
and were gliding up the Gazelle river, in Central Africa. Time, 
ten o'clock at night. We were passing through the shadow of a 
large cocoa tree, when our attention was attracted by the most 
unearthly cries upon the land. Creeping stealthily up the bank, 
we saw the Negroes and the gorillas engaged in battle. By the 
light of the rising moon, we saw the line of battle of the huge 
beasts extending more than a mile. They were armed with 
clubs and bows and arrows. The negroes, though armed as 
well, were gradually forced toward us, when, seizing my ele- 
phant gun, I joined the fight, assisted by my followers. Destiny 
is another name for skill By our skill we were enabled to 
shoot the leader of the gorillas; and the fierce brutes retreated 
from the field. Of course, few living men could have shown 
as much military talent as I did. Filled with gratitude, one of 
the Negro chiefs presented me with the dead body of one of 
his wives, whom he had slain and nicely dressed for breakfast. 

Mel. Oh dear! How very romantic! How wonderful! 

Sprig. I should ejaculate! Did you say she was nicely 
dressed for breakfast? 

Mr. Q. Yes sir. 

Sprig. Then sir, that was the only Negro, living in that 
part of Africa, who was nicely dressed. 

Aunt S. Mr. Quattlewich, if I could tell as big stories as 
you do, I would become a lecturer. 

Mr. Q. It is more difficult to lie than narrate facts. A man 
of my character never lies. Aunt Sallyi; as people call you, 
you must not accuse me of lying! You must not accuse me of 
lying. 



14 

Enter Sheldon, 

Mel. Here comes Mr, Sheldon. 

8hel. It affords me satisfactioD to meet with people of real 
culture aud position. When one has a production of genius to 
dispose of, it is inconceivably exasperating to meet only boors, 
who can not appreciate his choicest wares, [Exhibiting a large 
picture of a donkey^ Ladies and gentlemen, this is a repre- 
sentative — 

Sprig. A representative, did you say! That accounts fpr 
some of the queer conduct in Congress lately. 

Shel. Hem! he! a-hem! A representative of the horse fam- 
ily vulgarly called a donkey, I certify to you that it is a faith- 
ful and artistic representation of the identical animal on which 
the Roman general Titus entered Jerusalem, when that city was 
taken shortly after the death of Christ. It was painted by Sir 
Edwin Landseer; aud, as a work of high art, it has always 
excited the exaggerated enthusiasm of mankind. 

Sprig, Why are the people, represented in the picture, all 
placed on the housetops? 

Aunt S. Because it is a work of hig?L art, 

Mr. Q. Such scenes are common in the Orient, where peo- 
ple live much on the tops of houses, 

Shel. Buy it. It is a noble animal. 

Mel. Isn't it cunning ! 

Shel. You may have it for $100 — $75 to be paid now; and I 
will take the remainder in weekly installments, 

Mel. [To Mr, Junking son.'] Father, buy it, 

Mr. J. No; my daughter. The weevil is in the wheat; and 
we will not have ha^^ a crop; the brindle cow intends to have 
the hollow-horn; and there are so many peaches this year that 
the weight of the fruit will ruin my trees ; therefore I can't buy 
the picture. 



THE SriKITUALlST. 15 



Mr. Q. I am remarkably well read iu history; and I know- 
that the ancient Romans didn't wear swallow tails. [To Shel.] 
Those, sir, are intended for Roman soldiers; but they are ridic- 
ulous caricatures. Your picture, sir, is a daub; and I'll not buy 
it. 

Shcl. Ah! I perceive that I am among people of real cultiva- 
tion. Here is a picture more suitable for you. It represents an 
angel grandmother, just from Heaven, reaching to receive the 
spirit of her dying grandson. [JSxhibits picture . 

Aunts. Do angels wear spectacles? {To Mr. Q.'\ I observe 
that one does. 

Mr. Q. Aunt Sally, as people somewhat unceremoniously 
call you, I would inform you that when an elderly person dies, 
the ghost of such an individual frequently wears spectacles, as 
I have been informed by spiritualistic mediums on whom 1 can 
rely. [To Sheldon.] How much for that picture? 

Shel. It was painted by a famous medium when his eyes 
were bandaged, and the ghost of Guido inspired him. It is a 
faithful representation of such a scene. You may have it for 
$150. 

Mr. Q. I will give you $1 for the picture, because I believe 
it represents such a scene. 

Shel. Not particularly. Give me $125 for it. 

Mr. Q. I will give you $2 for it. 

Shel. Give me $100 for it. 

Mr. Q. I will give you $3 for it. 

Shel. Give me $75 for it. 

Mr. Q. I will give you $4 for it. 

Shel. Give me $50 for it. 

Mr. Q. I wiir give you $5 for it. 

Shel. Give me $25 for it. Just think! It only costs you 
$25 to keep an angel in the house! 



16 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Mr. Q. Sir! will you be just to me, and believe my state- 
meut when I tell you that I am a gentleman of correct taste, 
who can appreciate a work of art when I see it? I will give 
you $6 for the picture, because that looks like a spirit grand- 
mother. 

Shel. Sir, you are a gentleman of wonderful taste. My wife 
and children are suffering for food; and therefore I will take 
six dollars for it. 

Mr. Q. And I, sir, see that you are a man of penetrating 
judgment since you have been sufficiently discerning to appre- 
ciate my taste. Here, sir, are six dollars. 

[^Handing Sheldon a sum. 

Sprig. [To Shel.\ Why are the angel's cheeks so red? 

Shel. It blushes with mortification because it only brought 
six dollars. 

Sprig. I suppose its chet^ks are red because it was a cold 
day in Heaven when it was painted. 

3Ir. Q. Irreverence, sir! Irreverence! 

Exeunt Quattlewich, Sheldon, Melissa and 
Mr. Junkingson. 

Sprig. Many spiritualists are worthy sensible people; but 
what an irritable, superstitious, selfish, conceited pudding head 
Quattlewich is! He could see that the ancient Romans didn't 
wear swallow-tails ; but couldn't perceive the absurdity of rep- 
resenting an angel with spectacles on its nose. Joe McGregor, 
with his eyes shut, could paint a better picture. I painted it as 
a comic picture; and you added the spectacles to make it look 
more laughable. But old Quattlewich bought it as a serious 
picture — a real death-bed scene. So much for superstition. 

Aunt S. Mr. Quattlewich pretends to have visited Central 
Africa, I believe. 



THE SPniTTUALIST. 17 



Sprig. He lies prodigiously. I have positive proof that he 
was in this country on the very day and hour which he claims 
were spent by him, iu Central Africa, in assisting the Pigmies 
in their wars with the giants. 

Aunt S. He is a superstitious egotist. Spriggius, what do 
you think of spiritualism ? > 

Spi'ig. I don't know much about it. My vision doesn't 
extend beyond this world. Uulesss they bring letters of 
recommendation from the angels, I shall admit no table- 
thumping ghosts of my ancestors to my intimacy. However 
hospitable I may feel toward my dead relatives, I shall not 
ask them to my table. 

Aunt S. Such as were hung for stealing horses might give 
you the nightmare. 

Spriq. Yes; they might. Professor Lougwhine believes that 
the raps are caused by the ghosts of dead carpenters, who 
pound in the spirit world in consequence of a habit acquir€d 
here. 

Aunt S. Then, if the ghostly carpenters should scare old 
Quattlewich to death, they would " hit the nail on the head." 

Sprig. I should ejaculate! 

Aunt S. Christianity, the religion of our ancestors, will 
yet civilize the globe. But modern spiritualism! — what is it? a 
dream or a reality? 

Sprig. Quattlewich has a living' wife. I have seen the 
proof of my statement. 

Aunt S. I don't doubt it. He pretends to love Melissa, but 
really loves her property, and would like to marry $90,000. 
We will hasten his marriage with Melissa; but after that event 
he must pay us a large sum or go to prison for bigamy. In the 
meantime we will play the ghost and scare him well. 



18 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



8prig. No; we will scare him sick. 

Aunt 8. Spriggins, you are a barbarous punster. We will 
let everybody into the secret of our ghost game, except my 
unfortunate brother, Mr. Junkingsou, and his daughter Melissa. 
They are such astonishing dunces that they would spoil all if 
they should hear of our scheme. 

Sprig. I should ejaculate! We'll pretend to be spiritualistic 
mediums. Oh! wouldn't I be a sweet mouth piece for the angels 
to talk through ? 

Aunt 8. Yes; if they desired to scold the pigs. Ha! ha! ha! 
We'll have sport. 

8prig. That we will. He! he! he! 

[^Exeunt. 

SCENE 11. 
A Parlor in Mr. Junkingsoh's House. 

Enter Quattlewich, Melissa, Mr. Junkingson, Mi^s. 
JujsKiNGsoN, Aunt Sally and Gall. 

Gall. You will forgive a stranger for congratulating you on 
the comfort and refinement everywhere visible in this house. 

Mel. We'll forgive you. 

Aunt 8. We'll agree to forgive you, provided you promise 
to cease to flatter us about our neatness, when you have books 
to sell. 

Mr. Junk. Everything is wrong. The house is too neat. 

Mr. Q. [To Oall.] Yes sir; Mr. Junkingson's folks are neat; 
but you should have seen the neatness exhibited by the canni- 
bals of Central Africa. 

Oall. They polished the bones of their human victims very 
neatly, I suppose; but they must be very superstitious. 

Mr. Q. They were not more superstitious than many civil- 
ized nations. 



THE SriRlTUALlST. 19 



Enter Spriggins, 

Oall. Did they have mediums in Africa? Did the cannibals 
believe that the spirits of the dead cause raps on tables, as 
superstitious people here suppose? 

Mr. Q. Mr. Gall, I would inform you, sir, that spiritualism 
is not superstition. What a donkey superstition is. I am not 
superstitious; and I know that we can communicate with the 
dead. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother, I thank 
thee for the correct views which I entertain upon this subject. 
What the unbeliever supposes is but the buzz of an insect, is 
often a stray note from the spirit world; and there is always 
more wisdom in the raps on a table than in the teachings of the 
greatest philosophers. Was the gentleman, whose book you 
are selling, a philosopher? 

Gall. He was a wonderful man, sir. He penetrated the heart 
of Africa, and discovered semi-civilized beasts called gorillas — 
a remarkable portion of the quadrumana — and he was engaged 
in a bloody and romantic war which raged between the pigmies 
and the giants, which inhabit that obscure portion of this terra- 
queous sphere. 

Amit S. Is the English language on a spree? 

Sprig. I should ejaculate! 

Mel. [To Mr. Junk.] My dear father! buy the book. 

Mr. Junk. No; my daughter. The weevil is in the wheat; 
and I fear we may have a tornado. 1 can't buy the book. Mr. 
Gall, you shall not read any extracts from that book in my 
house, sir. 

Gall. [Reading aloud.] "As we passed up the Gazelle 
river, in Central Africa, our progress was continually inter- 
rupted by the presence of immense numbers of hippopotamuses. 
They snorted so at night that sleep was impossible. But, after 
eating liberally of African yams, one night, we fell asleep, be- 
cause the yams were full of a somniferous substance. The 
next morning, we found that the huge hippopotamuses had 



20 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



towed our vessel three miles up a tributary of the Gazelle river 
and left us and our vessel strauded completely." 

Mel. What a wonderful story! Yet it is undoubtedly true. 

Aunts. What lies! What intolerable nonsense! 

Mr. Junk. Just as I said! Everything is wrong. The brin- 
dle cow has the hollow-horn; in Africa even the food contains 
death; and the heathen will never learn anything about rotation 
of crops. 

Oall. Will you subscribe for the book? [Offering Mr. Q. a 
pencil and a subscription book.'\ 

Mr. Q. Not at present, sir. I am an excellent judge of books; 
and I know that one must have been written by a man of genius 
who was also a great traveler. 

Oall. Will any one present sign for the book. [To eac7i.] 
Sign for it? Sign for it? Sign for it? Sign for it? 

iSprig. We don't want the book, sir. You needn't read any 
more. 

Gall. [Beading.'] " Not far from the seriba of Mohammed 
Aboo Summat I saw a tree, which in appearance was allied to 
the .cocoa-palm. It bore small red berries which tasted deli- 
ciously. My servant, Abdull Kadell ate some of these as we 
were passing an extensive marsh. Suddenly a fierce report 
startled us; and, glancing toward him, I saw pieces of his body 
flying in every direction. He was literally torn to shreds. Is it 
possible that some evil spirit induced him to eat the berries? 
They contained an aciduous substance which, mixing with the 
gastric juice in his stomach, formed an explosive that literally 
tore him to pieces. How wonderful is nature! How mysterious 
is man!" 

Mel. How I pity the poor wretch! 

Oall. An awful fate. Few books are as wonderful as this. 

Sprig. I should ej aculate ! 

Au}it S. Nonsense! Nonsense! 

Mr. Junk. The fruit in this country is far from perfect, and 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 21 



the African berries tear a man all to pieces. What an unfortu- 
nate world! [To Gall.] You shall not read any more. The 
sound hurts my head. 

Gall. '[Meads.] " When I was in Central Africa — " 

Mr. Junk. We don't want the book now. 

Gall. [To each.] Buy the book. Buy the book. Buy the 
book ! 

Jlr. Junk. Leave my house, sir. We wouldn't have your 
book, sir. 

Gall. [Beads.] "When I was among the Pigmies and the 
giants of Central Africa — " 

Aunt S. We wish you had staid tliere. 

Gall. To tell the truth, I see that you are people of sense. I 
was victimized when I bought these books; they are full of the 
wildest nonsense ever put before an intelligent public. 

Au?U S. Who wrote that book? 

Gall. Theophilus Quattlewich, President of the Hodwag & 
Southwestern Railroad Company and Member of the American 
Geographical Society. ^ 

Mel. Oh dear! Mr. Quattlewich, that's you. 

Mr. Q. [To Gall.] You are a boor, sir — a boor. 

Gall. About the cannibals — 

Mr. Q. Do you dare to tell me to my face that the book that 
I wrote contains wild nonsense! I'll cannibal you. Fll prepare 
you for the pot of the cannibals. You are one of the links con- 
necting the ape and the amphibian. [Beating Gall.] 

[Exeunt. 



23 THE SPmiTUALIST. 



SCEiNE III. 

A Room at Mi'. Junkingsori's. 
Enter Aunt Sally and Spriggins. 

Aunt S. Spriggins,- where have yoa been? 

Sprig. Down to the cornfield to extract the cube root of a 
stump. 

Enter Mrs. Dorkins. 

Mrs. D. I received a letter from one Mr. Spriggins, who I 
am told resides here. 

Sprig. That's I. I am the identical tenderling who wrote 
the note. 

Mrs. B. And I am Mrs. Dorkins. 

Aunt S. [To Mrs. D.] What! my old friend Julia Whitting- 
hammer, with whom I used to study botany at school! So your 
name is Dorkins, now. Where is your husband? 

Mrs. B. That's what I should like to know. 

Aunt S. What! Can't you keep track of Mr. Dorkins, your 
husband? You should fasten a bell to him. 

Mrs. B. No trouble to do that; for most married men take 
kindly to the belles. 

Aunt S. True. True. Ila! ha! ha! 

Mrs. B. [To Sprig.] Your description of Mr. Quattlewich 
agrees with that of my husband, Mr. Aminidab Dorkins. He 
^ deserted me and our children some years since. Have you a 
picture of Mr. Quattlewich? 

Aunt Q. I have. [Showing a pJiotograph] This is the pic- 
ture of Mr. Quattlewich. 

Mrs. B. Why! that is the picture of my truant husband, 
Mr. Aminidab Dorkins. [Producing photograpJi.] See the 
two photographs exactly agree. My photograph of him is the 
best; but the features are the same. Mr. Quattlewich is my 
husband; and his real name is Aminidab Dorkins. 



THE SPIRITUALIST. S3 



Sprig. He is superstitious, and believes in more ghosts than 
there is room for— blue ghosts, green ghosts and red ghosts. I 
shouldn't be surprised to learn that he believes that some ghosts 
wear pig-tails, like Chinamen have. 

Mrs. Dorkins. He certainly is somewhat superstitious. 

Sprig. Do you love that precious husband? 
Mrs. D. I certainly have a — ah! some regard for him, 
notwithstanding the fact that he stole my share of the property 
and cruelly deserted me, after making the most absurd and 
wicked charges against me. 

Aunt S. Your husband, Mr. Dorkins, or Mr. Quattlewich, as 
he calls himself, is courting my poor niece, Melissa Junkingson. 

Mrs. D. Oh the heartless man! Quattlewich! Quattlewich! 
Oh what a name my husband has chosen! 

Aiuit S. [To Mrs. B.\ Justice requires that he should be 
punished for his cruelty to you. Besides, some punishment 
might reform him. 

Mrs. D. What you say is but the truth. 

Aunt S. Will you assist in punishiug him? 

Mrs. D. I will. I will. Oh! the soulless deserter of his 
affectionate wife and children! 

Aunt S. If he should couseat tv) live with you as your hus- 
band, he might run away again. 

Mrs. D. Yes, he might. 

Aunt S. Don't ra-ike yourself known to him till after his 
marriage wit!-i Melissa Junkingson; then confront him with the 
evidence of his bigamy, and you can force him to piy you such 
a sum to keep you quiet as will render you independent for life. 

Mrs. D. I will try my very best to assist you. 

Sprig. We will take advantage of his superstition, and have 
some fun at his expense, before his marriage with Melissa. The 
sheriff may have sport with him after that event. [To Mrs D.] 
Do you see that box under the table? 

Mrs. D. Yes sir. 



24 THE SPIRITUAUST. 



Sprig. Hide in it, and pretend to be a ghost; and rap the 
under side of tlie table, when we ask questions, or your hus- 
band does. Aunt Sally can pretend to be a medium 

Mrs. D. I will obey you; and rap answers to my husband's 
questions. [Hides in the box beneath the table. 

Enter Mr. Quattlewich otherwise Mr. Aminidab Dorkins. 

Mr. Q. [soliloquizing.'] What a beautiful dream I had last 
night! I never have such dreams as the common herd have. 
My angel grandmother stood at my be dside. How bright were 
her wings! how blissful her smile! 

Aunt S. How strangely svveet the presence of an angel is! 

Mr. Q. I was told that you were a medium. Did you ever 
experience the presence of an angel? 

.Au7it 8. I feel the presence of an angel now. I am a power- 
ful medium. A'n't I, Sprigging? 

Sprig. I should ejaculate! You have the confidence of all 
dead widowers and some of the live ones. 

Mr. Q. When I was a boy, a neighbor of mine went to 
heaven, while he was in a trance state, and remained there two 
weeks. 

Enter Mr. Junkingson. 

Sprig. I went to heaven for a thanksgiving dinner once; but 
I didn't get any, because some one had eaten up all the turkey. 

3Ir. Q. Take seats at the table, and we will communicate 
with the souls of the dead. The majority of our race believe 
in ghosts; and some savage African tribes — [Taking seats. 

Aunt 8. The table is full of spirits. 

Mr. Q. Aunt Sally, as people familiarly call you, do you 
be careful to bring me into communication with no spirits 
except such as are of superior social position in another world, 
if 1 may so express myself. The familiarity of a common ghost 
should not be encouraged. • 



THE SrrillTUALTST. 25 



Aunts. Mr. Qaattlewich, the ghost of Robert Burns wishes 
to communicate with you. 

Mr. Q. Robert Burns! Robert Burns! He was nothing but a 
poor Scotch farmer. I'll have nothing to do with him. What 
did he know about philosophy! 

Aunt S. Tlie ghost of Julius Ciesar wishes to commuuicate 
with you. 

Mr. Q. Ah I let me see. Julias CtBsar belonged to an emi 
nently respectable family of ancient Rome; he wrote well on 
the subject of the Gallic war; he was a fine orator, an able gen- 
eral, aud a statesman of practicality. The ghost of such a man 
must have an eminently respectable position in the society of 
the spirit world. You may admit Julius. I have no particular 
objections to the fellowship of Julias. 

Sprig. I feel the presence of the spirit of an Indian chief. 
He is just from the happy hunting grounds aud inquires for fire 
water. 

3Ir. Q. You are right. We must believe that the spirits of 
the dead are actualh^ here, and that we really see them, else 
they will never appear. Where is the ghost of Julius? 

Aunt S: Pie says he doesn't wish to commuuicate with such 
as you. ' 

3Ir. Q. Such as I! Such as I! Julius should think himself 
honored by my friendship. He was nothing but an ambitious 
bloodthirsl}' usarper. I'll have nothing to do with Julias C?esar. 
His wife wasn't above suspicion, I have heard. Away with 3fr. 
Julius Caesar. 

Aunt S. I feul the presence of the ghost of Mrs. Whittiug- 
hammer. She states that she was your mother-in-law. 

3Ir. Q. What! my mother-in-law! 

Aunt S. Shall we communicate with her? 

Mr. Q. Kot at present. The conditions are not favorable. 



36 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Atint S. I suppose so, sir. 

Mr. Q. Let me ask some questions. I have seldom re- 
ceived answers, but will try again. Endeavor is the herald of 
success. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother, if you 
are present, please rap twice. [Tico raps.] If you are happy 
in the spirit world, please rap twice. [Two raps.] Are the 
houses in heaven all numbered? Was the iclithyosaurus a 
dweller on the globe before man's appearance? If so, please rap 
twice. [Two distinct raps.] Is man a descendant of a lower 
organism? Do the spirits of the dead have holidays. If I 
would be happy after my marriage with Melissa, please rap 
twice. [Two raps.] Am I destined to be one of the blessed in 
the spirit world? If I am destined to trouble in another world, 
please rap twice. [ Two raps.] 

Sprig. The seance is satisfactory. Let us all retire. 

Mr. Junk. Just as I said. The weevil is in the wheat; we 
may have a tornado; the brindle cow intends to have the hollow 
horn; and Quattlewich is going to the devil. 
Enter Melissa. 

Aunt S. I object to such a close of the seance, because I 
feel the presence of spirits which have said nothing, altho they 
wish to communicate with us. Strange spirit, has Mr: Quattle- 
wich a living wife? If he has, you may rap twice. [Tico raps] 

Mr. Q. It lies! It lies! It is not my grandmother's ghost. 

Mel. Learn about Jewel. 

Aunt S. Strange spirit! is the dog Jewel in the room? If 
he be here, please rap twice. [Two raps.] If he be under the 
table, let us know. 

Mr. Q. I'll look for him under the table. 

Aunt S. No! no! no! You mustn't look there. [Forcing 
him away.] The spirits don't want you to look. 

Mr. Q. I'll not disobey their mandates. 



THE yr I RITUALIST. 27 



Aunt S. If the clog Jewel be ia the churu, please rap twice. 
[Two raps.] 

Mr Q. [Goes to the cliurny and takes Jewel therefrom and 
-exhibits him.] My friends, you see the complete vindication of 
spiritualism. Here is Jewel; and he was in the churn, as the 
spirits said. Unbelief is a vagabond in the presence of such 
convincing facts. [Exeunt. 



ACT II.— Scene I. 

A Hoom in the Empire Hotel, a Summer Resort. 
Enter Spiuggins, Aunt Sally, Mrs. Dorkins, Melissa and 

Mr. JUNKINGSON. 

Mr. J. Jewel was in the churn. We'll have to sell that but- 
ter at half price. 

Mel. He was in the milk. Oh my pet! My Jewel! My star! 

Aunt S. That's the first time I ever saw a dog-star in the 
milky wav. 

Mel. Ha! ha! ha! [Exeunt Mbiassa and Mr. Junkingson. 

Sprig. "Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother," kill 
this flea! [Slaps Ms legs.] Superstitious old Quattlewich be 
lieved everything to be as your raps declared, Mrs. Dorkins. 
When you rapped that he was destined to roast in perdition, he 
was horrified. I wish I may have'the toothache on the Fourth 
of July, if I don't believe he has gone home and packed his 
trunk, so as to be ready for a journey to the bottomless pit. He 
will probably try to procure a second-class ticket on account of 
its cheapness. 

Aunt S. He w ill have no use for what is called a round-trip 
ticket. 

Sprig. What odd questions he asked! I wonder that he didn't 
ask if the souls of dead highwaymen were admitted to the sev- 
enth heaven. [Sings and capers.] I know that in the Age of 



28 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Mammals, Our sires were neither deer nor camels; But monkeys 
that could climb the trees, And there coquet and take their 
ease. 

Mrs. B. Quattlewich is my husband; and his real name is 
Dorkins. Oh, the heartless — the heartless man! He asked if 
he would be happy after his marriage with Melissa. Ha! ha! ha! 
O, the wretch! Pie should be allowed to marry Melissa, and 
then be sent to State Prison for bigamy. \To Spriggins.'] Did 
my husband Mr. Dorkins, or Quattlewich, as he calls himself, 
kill Melissa's dog Jewel? 

Sprig. I killed the dog myself; but Melissa must be con- 
vinced that old Quattlewich killed him. What a row it will 
raise between them! {Exit. 

Aunt S. Mrs. Dorkins, you should watch Quattlewich your 
husband. You may have some sport. 

Mrs. D. I'll watch him. 

Aimt 8. Punish him as he deserves; and we'll help you if we 
can. [Exit. 

Mrs. D. Here comes my husband and that simpleton, Miss 
Melis sa. [Hides behind a screen. 

Enter Melissa and Quattlewich. 

Mr. Q. Melissa, why have you been so cold lately? 

Mel. Oh! I've had the ague. 

Mr. Q. Ah! my darling, you don't understand me. I would 
learn why you have been so cold toward me. 

Mel. Oh dear! Mr. Quattlewich, I was again told that you 
murdered my dog Jewel. Oh, the martyr! He wished all man- 
kind good. How I loved him! 

Mr. Q. [Aside.] If I can only induce her to change the sub- 
ject. [Aloud.] Alas! we are so made that a thing as worthless 
as the memory of a dead dog may bar our path to happiness. 
But I am an exception to the rule; for no ordinary obstacle can 
bar my path. When I was among the Pigmies of Central 
Africa, the dogs always assisted the little folks in their wars 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 29 



with the cranes. On one occasion, when the birds had almost 
routed the Pigmies, the timely appearance of the dogs secured 
the victory for the little folks, and the birds were compelled to 
fly the field. 

Mel. How romantic! How odd! If dogs are so good, why 
did you kill Jewel? 

Mr. Q. I kill a dog! Melissa, do you think that a philosoph- 
ical gentleman, who is also a railroad president, could kill a dog! 

Mel. I fear you did. Two people told me that they saw you 
kill him. 

Mr. Q. I didn't kill him. Who told 5-0 u such an outrageous 
lie about me? Tell me at once. Oh! I will cane him! I will 
cane him! 

Mel. I had him skinned and stuffed. If you will kiss his 
stuffed pelt, I will be convinced that you did not kill him; for 
surely no one could have the heart to kiss a remnant of an ani- 
mal which he had slain. 

Mr. Q. [Aside.^ If lean only lead her to change the sub- 
ject. \^Aloud.'\ The idol of one age is the toy of the next. All 
doctrines must perish, except those of the spiritualistic philos- 
ophy. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother! thy whis- 
pered lessons of wisdom shall never be forgotten! Will you 
marry me, my darling? 

Mel. When I view this, my soul loses its life; and I never, 
alas! never can marry the murderer of my canine friend. Will 
you kiss his pelt? [Presenting the stuffed dog.] 

Mr. Q. During the Carboniferous Age, there was so much 
carbonic acid in the air that warm-blooded animals, such as 
man, could not have existed. Neither horses nor dogs — ah! I 
mean sheep — could have lived. 

Mel. Jewel was a dog; and he couldn't have lived then. 

Mr Q. Fury! my dear! My dear, fury! Let us talk about 
more important matters. 

Mel. I don't know anything that's more important. 



30 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Mr. Q, At the beginning of Mesozoic time the amphibians 
were conspicuous animals. They sometimes grew till they were 
thirteen feet long; they were amphibious, had teeth, and each 
eye may have resembled a jewel. 

Mel. That reminds me of my dead dog Jewel. Will you kiss 
his pelt, now that I have stuffed him? 

Mr. Q. Shall 1 tell you a tale? 

Mel. Jewel had a tail. 

Mr. Q. The domestic animals appeared on the globe, since 
the quaternary age began. 

Mel. Jewel was domestic. 

Mr. Q. My darling! shall I kiss you or the dog? 

Mel. Dearest! you may kiss the dog. 

Mr. Q. My darling, reflect! How absurd and degrading such 
an act must appear. Love rarely survives the loss of dignity. 
Love and dignity are Siamese twins. When one of them has 
worms, the other needs vermifuge. 

Mel. Oh, my pet dog! Why do 1 love him still? 

Mr. Q. Because you can't love him barking, I suppose. 

Mel. Oh, you sarcastic cruel man! will you kiss Jewel's 
stuffed pelt? 

Mr. Q. May Satan j:>6Z^ me with brimstone chunks if I do. I 
am Theophilus Quattlewich, President of the Hodwag & South- 
western Railroad Company and Member of the American Geo- 
graphical Society. I am a man of a genius at once brilliant and 
profound. I did 7^o^ kill your filthy little brute, nor will I kiss 
any portion of his contemptible carcass. 

Mel. Oh, horrid! Horrid! He was jiot a filthy little brute. 
He was a dog of cleanly habits and tender heart. 

Mr. Q. How cruel you are to me! 

Mel. It is not cruelty to ask you to kiss Jewel. I kiss Jewel 
myself, and love to do so. When I go to my farms, I shall 
always take this reminder of Jewel with me; and, when living 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 31 



iu my city resideuce, I shall always be devoted to the memory 
of my little pet. 

Mr, Q. Ah! my darling, your winnin.^ property — winning 
ways, I mean — overcome all scruples; and I will comply with 
your request. [Kissing the stuffed poodle.'] My darling, are 
you satisfied? 

Mel. Perfectly, my dear; for I know that you are innocent. 
The place in my heart once filled by the dog is now occupied 
by you. 

Enter Mr. Junkingson. 

Mr. Q. The worst egotists are ever unconscious of their 
egotism. Most men are born egotists; but I have passed the 
age of forty, and I view life in the serene light of philosophy. 
Philosophy" is the science of nature; therefore he who is most 
natural must be the greatest philosopher. 

Mel. You are not egotistical, my dear. 

3fr. Q. Altho I possess genius, I am modest. I am not 
too egotistical to kiss the pelt of a dog, if I should suppose that 
such an act would increase the happiness of one so dear to me. 
Will you now consent to marry me? 

Mel. Dearest, I will. Do you believe that dogs have souls 
which exist after death? 

Mr. Q. I do, because I attended a seance a few nights ago, 
and the spirit of a dead Indian girl stated that she was accom- 
panied by her dog in Heaven, just as she had been during her 
earth-life. Nothing exists without a purpose; therefore, if dogs 
exist in Heaven, there must be swine there for them to chase; 
and, viewing the subject in this light, I find no difficulty in 
believing that there are hogs in Heaven. 

Mel. How odd! It grieves me to think that the dogs may 
bite the hogs. 



32 THE SPIRITUALIST. 

» . 

Mr. Junk. This world is far from perfect, aud there is pain 
even in heaven. [Exit. 

Mel. Oh! here is Mr. Betson. 

Enter Betson, 

Mr. Q. Sir, have you the impudence to try to sell me more 
potatoes? 

Mr. Betson. No sir. I am collecting money for a sick 
widow, who is in suffering circumstances. 

Mel. Oh, poor woman! Here are five dollars for your noble 
object. [Giving money to Betson. 

Mr. Q, Here, sir is a sum. [Giving money to B- 

Bet. What! Three cents! Take them back, sir. You are 
entirely too generous. 

Mr. Q. An insult! An insult! [Beating Betson. 

Bet. I'll bring an officer, and cause you to be arrested at 
once. [Exit. 

Mr. Q. By assisting the poor, we encourage pauperism. I 
trust that I am too much of a philosopher to do much of that. 
Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother! I thank thee 
that I have been able to vindicate my dignity. 

Mel. What is a philosopher? 

Mr. Q. A wise man, my dear — one who thinks and acts 
wisely. 

Mel. Then, I fear that we haven't been philosophers of late, 

Mr. Q. He who is a philosopher under all circumstances is 
a man under none. 

Mel. Oh, Mr. Quattlewich, Mr. Betson has gone to find an^ 
officer; and you may be arrested. 

Mr. Q. I am not afraid of the police. 

Mel. You may be fined. 

Mr. Q. Money is a cash article. Money furnishes Thought 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 33 



with wings. I do not desire to part with my wings. Where 
should I go? 

Mel. Hide in that old safe till the oflEicers leave. 

Mr. Q. It were an act beneath the dignity of a philosophical 
gentleman. He, who is innocent, yet carelessly places himself 
where he may be suspected, commits a grave offense indeed. 
Besidt's I might die there, for want of fresh air. Is there any 
money in the safe? 

Mel. Forty dollars. [Opens safe. 

Mr. Q. I wouldn't touch the money. Who owns the safe? 

Mel. It belongs to my poor father, who keeps his old love- 
letters in it; and he made a hole in the safe so that they could 
have fresh air. Aunt Sally rents this building to Justice 
Bartlett; and everybody has gone to the river to fish. 

Mr. Q. I shall never place my physical and spiritual self in 
such a diminutive and contemptible dungeon as that. When I 
was in Central Africa — 

Mel. Oh dear! you may be fined and beaten. What shall I 
do? What shall I do? Oh, dear! dear! dear! 

Ml'. Q. Strategy is a mark of genius. I'll save my money, 
and gratify you, my darling. I will even accept the hateful 
shade of that ignoble cage, so unworthy of me, if by doing 
so I can dry your beautiful orbs. Beloved spirit of my deceased 
grandmother, comfort Melissa! [Enters the safe. 

Mel. I'll get the key and lock you in, but release you when 
the officers have gone. [Exit. 

Mr. Q. Melissa is kind; but what an amusing simpleton she 
is! Ha! ha! ha! But my pocket-book is safe for the present. 
Ha! ha! ha! ha! 

Be enter Melissa. 

Mel. How romantic! [Locks the safe.] My lover is a phi- 



34 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



losopher and a railroad presideut, aud he is locked iu a safe, 
and the officers are hunting for bim and can't find him. 
Enter Aunt Sally and Spriggijss. 

Aunt 8, Melissa, why are you so flustered? 

Mel. Oh dear me! Aunt Sally, I don't want to tell. [Exit. 

Sprig. Where does Mr. Junkingson keep the love-letters that 
he wrote when he was a bachelor? 

Amit 8. In that old safe Oh! wouldn't they be rich reading! 

Sprig. I should ejaculate! Let's open the safe, and read the 
love-letters. 

Aunt 8. Spriggins, you are a miniature Beelzebub. Do you 
suppose that I'll consent to make my ow^n brother ridiculous? 

Sprig. There is a powder-flask aud a drill in the tool-box 
under the safe. I'll get ihem aud blow the safe open. 

Atint S. If you do, I'll take care of the money that's there. 
I'll put it iu my brother's vest pocket, after he retires for the 
□ight. 

Sjyrig. Nobody will hear the report; because everybody 
except us has gone to the river to fish; and Melissa has just left 
on the street car. [Drilling a hole in safe and inserting powder, 
he fires the poicder and the safe flies open. 

Aunts. Of all earthly objects! ^ [Exit. 

Sprig. Well! I'll be blest! ' [Exit. 

Bartlett. [Outside.'] Burglars! Burglars! Burglars! 
Enter Bartlett, Gall and Betson. 

Bet. Look at the thief! 

Bart. [To Quattleicicli, who is emerging from safe.] Caught 
you in the act of burglary. Surrender, sir. 

Mr. Q. Never sir, never! I'm innocent. I command you 
to treat me with great respect. 

Bart. Surrender, sir. 



THE SPIKITUALIST. 35 

Mr, Q. I'll not surrender lo a mob of bumpkins. I can 
chastise you all. Cringe! and ask my pardon! you ignorant and 
inferior mortals! 

Oall. We've got you, sir. [Seizing Mr. Q., they force hira 
ojf' the stage.] [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 

Aunt Salli/'s Vilhige Residence. 

Enter Aunt Sally, Si*Ric4Gixs, Bartlett, Gall, Mr. Junking - 

SON, Melissa, Quattlewich and Betson. 

Bart. Mr. Quattlewich! what was your object in going into 
my safe, if you did not intend to commit burglary? 

Mr. Q. Burglary! Burglary, did you say! Be careful in 
your language, sir. When you accu-e a man of my character 
of such an offense, you are mendacious. We may nave been 
misled by some malicious spirit; but our object w^as a proper 
one. 

Bart. You must acknowledge that the circumstances were 
calculated to cause suspicion. I left a thousand dollars in the 
safe, locked the door, and went awny. On returning, 1 heard 
my safe blown open, and found you coming out of it. 

Mr. Q. Your safe! Melissa told me that Mr. Junkingson 
owned it. Didn't you Melissa? 

Mel. Yes, 1 did. I told him to hide in the safe till his cruel 
persecutors should leave. 

Bart. I bought the safe of Mr. Junkingson, a few^ days ago. 
Didn't I, Mr. Junkingson? 

Mr. J. Squire Bartlett, you did. But who blew it open? The 
matter looks suspicious. Mr. Quattlewich, why did you enter 
the safe? 

Mr. Q. I don't know wh^ blew the safe open. Owing to an 
unfortunate— ah! an unfortunate— ah! an unfortunate contro- 
versy in which I was engaged, I saw fit to place my corporeal 
frame and spirituality in the safe temporarily. This I did with 



36 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Melissa's consent; and she, being properly mindful of my con- 
servation physically and spiritually, locked me in and retained 
the key. If my object had been to abstract funds, of course I 
never would have consented to be locked in. I understood that 
there were only forty dollars in the safe — money belonging to 
Melissa's father; and, of course, a man of ray immense wealth, 
social position, talents, and culture would never descend to such 
a petty act as the theft of so insignificant a sum. 

Aunt S. He never stole anything smaller than a railroad. 
Ha! ha! ha! 

Bart. 1 am convinced that you meant no harm. Forgive us. 

Mr. Q. I am not one of those who cherish a grudge. When 
I was in Central Africa, among the savage Niam-Niam {gnam- 
gnam) I noticed that some of their fiercest wars were results of 
grudges. On one occasion, an old woman, who was slain to be 
eaten, proved too tough for food, and her slayers cherished a 
grudge against her relatives because of the toughness of the 
flesh, and never missed an opportunity to kill them. I saw 
some of the old woman's flesh myself. It was very tough — 
yes, remarkably tough. 

Aunt S. That's a. tough story. 

Mr. Q. Madam! be more guarded in your colloquial vocab- 
ulary in my presence hereafter. Be more guarded, I say! 

[Exeunt Bartlett, Gall, Junkingson, Melissa, 
QuATTLEW^iCH and Betson. 

Aunt S. Isn't Quattlewich a treasure? 

Sprig. I should ejaculate! 

A^int S. You got him into a nice scrape about the dog. You 
were guilty of cruelty when you killed him, and you shouldn't 
have lied about it. We will intoduce Quattlewich to Psycho, a 
devil, at the next seance. Can youjrepresent a devil? 

Sprig. Devil a doubt of it! 

Aunt S. We will call on Mrs. Dorkins, the wife of Quattle- 
wich, to help us. 



THE SrmiTUALIST. 87 



bprig. Will she not relent and tell her husband all? Is she 
perfectly reliable? Will she help me play the devil? 

Aunt S. She was a schoolmate of mine; and I know that she 
is perfectly reliable. 

Sprig. That is sufficient. If she were a schoolmate of 
yours, there can be no question about her fitness for helping a 
devil. She'll do. [Sifigs and ea2)e7\<i.] 

Oh, Beelzebub! give aid betimes 

To punish Quattlewich for crimes. 

If you will further our design. 

We'll drink your health in ancient wine. 

Enter Melissa and Mrs. Dorkins. 

Mel. Spriggins,.is your father yet in the grocery business? 

Sprig. No; he is a maker of whisky, and owns a still. 

Mel. Do you love me more than you do Aunt Sally? 

Sprig. My hopes are centered on thee still. 

Aunt S. That joke is stillborn. 

Mel. Oh horrid! Horrid! I must leave at once. [Exit. 

Mrs. D. I suppose yoxx are about to play some game on that 
husband of mine, Mr. Quattlewich; and I am ready to help you. 

Aunt S. We will have a musical, spiritualistic seance in the 
dark, and frighten your husband. 

Mrs. D. That wc will. Only let the spirits that come be 
evil ones, so as to frighten my husband Mr. Dorkins— or Quat- 
tlewich as he calls himself. 

Enter Mrs. Junkingson. 

Mrs. J. This shall occur while my husband, Mr. Junkingson, 
is away from home; because he is jealous of me and unjustly 
suspects Mr. Quattlewich, although he knows that he is engaged 
to our daughter Melissa. 

Sprig. Aunt Sally! how will you spend the remainder of the 
Summer? 

Aunt 8. Oh! at the next ball at the Empire Hotel, I will 



38 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



lead the dance with Captain Lightfoot of the regular army, and 
start the next Tuesday for the White Sulphur Springs, to enjoy 
the mountain air, the beautiful scenery, and the pleasant talk of 
the cultivated people who frequent that locality. You must 
lend me the poetical works of Oliver Wendell Holmes; for you 
know he is my favorite author. T admire his quaint humor, his 
pathos, and sublimity. I wish I had the poems of Charles Noble 
Gregory, the Wordsworth of Wisconsin; for they would form 
an attractive book; and Ella Wheeler's poems are sweet and 
pathetic; while some of the poems of Franklin Everett are full 
of sublimity. But what wonderfully fine poetry Bates has 
written ! 

Sprig. John G. Saxe is my favorite. 

[Exeunt Spriggins, Aunt Sally and Mrs. Dorkins. 

Mrs. Junk. [Alone ] What a splendid chance I will now 
have to ascertain the real sentiments of Quattlewich concerning 
my daughter Melissa! I shall pretend to be my daughter dur- 
ing the dark seance, and I shall lead my daughter from her 
usual seat and occupy it myself; and be will mistake me io\ my 
daughter Melissa, and court me; and 1 can tell what his inten- 
tions are by the style of his courtship. If he should have ques- 
tionable designs, he shall suffer. Oh, my daughter! I'll protect 
you. [Exit. 

SCENE III. 

A room at Mr. Junhing son's. 
Enter Aunt Sally, Spriggins, Melissa and Mr. Junkingson. 

Mel. Will you stay at home, to-night, my dear father? 

Mr. Junk. No; my daughter; I must attend the grange to- 
night-, because that matter of Sampleshall will come up for 
consideration. Sampleshall was a chum of mine in the old days 
when this State was new. 

Sprig. And you used to ride a pet bear to church on Sunday, 
because there were no horses. 



THE SPmiTUALTST. 39 



Aunt S. Spriggins! treat your senior with more respect. You 
are impertinent. 

Mr. J. I never rode a pet bear to church, on Sunday. We 
had better horses then than we have now. The horses are all 
wrong — ring-bone, spavin, bots, colic — all wrong. The people 
are wrong; and the communists will ruin the country, and wheat 
is only worth $3 per bushel in the m!:irket. 

Mel. Oh dear! Mr. Betson says that wheat ought to be worth 
more than that in Timbuctoo. 

Mr. Junk. Where is Timbuctoo? 

Mel. Oh dear! What an odd question! I don't know where 
it is. 

Mr. Junk. Study your atlas, and you will see that Timbuc- 
too is a flourishing city on the Mississippi river. You ju.st made 
a display of ridiculous ignorance. I suspect that you never 
studied much. 

Aunt S. [To Mr. J.\ My brother, you are a persistent grum- 
bler. If you should reach heaven and see the streets paved 
with Calif oruian gold, you would raise a row because the pre- 
cious metal didn't come from Australia. Ha! ha! ha! 

Mel. Oh dear A.unt Sally! please don't be cruel to my poor 
papa. 

Aunt S. He is one of those unfortunate mortals who are 
never happy unless they are miserable. 

31r. Junk. Wife! if old Quattlewich come here while I am 
absent, lock the house and shut him out. 1 want no spiritual- 
istic musical seance here while I aui gone; because, at the last 
one, every fiddle that was played by a ghost gave us the tune 
called "The Devil's Dream;" and there's something wrong 
about it. 

Mrs. Junk. Yes, my dear husband; if he come, I will order 
him away immediately. 

Mr. Junk. Be careful to do so, I tell you. [Exit. 

Aunt 8. Thank good luck! the poor old growler has gone. 



40 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Enter Mr. Quattlewich. 

Mrs. Junk. Mr. Quattlewich, I am delighted to see you. It's 
almost time for the spiritualistic concert to begin. [ Giving Mr. 
Q. her hand.] 

Mr. Q. That being the case, I will bring that sweet-toned 
violin, so that the angels will have at least one suitable instru- 
ment on which to play. Alas! how little of earth-born sym- 
phony is suitable for the ears of angels! 

Sprig. I don't suppose that your violin is suitable for such 
spirits as will play at the concert; therefore, I'll get a horse- 
iiddle and a bass drum. 

Mr. Q. Irreverence, sir! Irreverence! The tones of the 
violin, to which I refer, pleased my ear; and, I trust I am not 
conceited, when I inform you that I think I am an excellent 
judge of music. [Exit 

Aunt S. Spriggins, you can take the part of Psycho, a devil. 
I assign to each that part to which he is best adapted. 

Sprig. I'll play the part with brimstone neatness. 

Aunt S. Spriggins, you are a rattle-headed mischief; a'n't 
you? 

Sprig. I am a modest youth; and, if things had been prop- 
erly ordered, I would have been born with a prayer engraved 
on my cheek. 

Aunt S. You may well say engraved. 

Sprig. I should ejaculate! [Sings and capers ] 

Oh he was lucky in debate, 
As any genius in the State, 

And brilliant in retort. 
And had so broad and rich a nature 
He might have reached the Legislature, 

Had he not been too short. 
His neighbors, known for pride and squalor. 
Preferred a handsome man and taller. 

I don't think that they ought. 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 41 



Aitnt S. How can we convince Quattlewich that his wife is 
dead? 

JSpng. I have caused a notice of her death to be published 
in the Snaggletowu Weekly Thunderbolt; and it must be true, 
for she wrote it herself. 

Enter Mrs. Dorkins. 

Mrs. D. It's true. I'm dead. 

Sprig. I declare! you are a handsome corpse. Say you; 
would there be any sin in kissing a dead person? 

Mrs. D. In this case there Avould. It would be a deadly sin. 
Enter Melissa. 

Aunt S. Mrs. Dorkins! this is my niece Melissa Junkingson, 
the lady whom your husband is courting. 

Mel. {To Mrs. D.] Mrs. Dorkins. 

Aunt S. Mr. Quattlewich's real name is Aminidab Dorkins, 
and this lady is his wife. I take pleasure in introducing Mrs. 
Dorkins, because she was a schoolmate of mine in the old days 
when we used to read about the Division of Eudogens, in the 
botany class. 

Mrs. D. I learn that you are about to marry that precious 
husband of mine. We lived as husband and wife about fifteen 
years; and you will have connubial capital to begin with — five 
children who bear the name of Dorkins. 

Mel. Forgive me for saying so; but I believe that you must 
be mistaken, Mr. Quattlewich is a true man, and is my friend. 

Aunt 8. Simpleton! what Mrs. Dorkins says is true. 

Mel. In that case, he only shows the strength of his love for 
me; for he would leave his wife, his children, everything, in 
order to become my husband. 

Mrs. D. He left me several years before he saw you. There- 
fore, he couldn't have deserted me because of any love for you. 

Mel. Oh dear! oh dear me! He can't be false. 



42 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Mrs. D. You wouldn't be his wife if you should marry hiui 
an hundred times; because I am his only wife according to law 
aud justice. 

Mel. Oh dear! What must I think? What must I do? 

Aunt 8. Think as we tell you to; and you will think 
sensibly. 

Mrs. JiLTik. My poor daughter, Melissa! I have just re- 
ceived a letter from Quattlewich's lormer home, which confirms 
the worst. Quattlewich's real name is Aminidab Dorkins, and 
this lady is his wife. Read this letter, [Giving letter to Mel. 

Mel. [After reading it. '\ Ah! I suspect that some enemy of 
Mr. Quattlewich wrote this note. Mr. Quattlewich has been so 
kind, and true to me. 

Sprig. Melissa, you are bright enough; but I heard old Quat- 
tlewich call you a fool; aud I just saw one of his old neighbors 
who said that this lady, Mrs. Dorkins, is his wife. 

Mel. Oh dear! How sad! 

Sprig. He is trying to ruin you, 

Mel. Oh! oh! oh dear! What — what— what shall I do ? 

Aunt S. [To Mel.] Obey our instructions. ■ Marry him; 
aud then he must pay you a large sum or go to State Prison for 
bigamy. In the meanwhile, pretend to love him, 

Mel. I will! I will! Dorkins! Dorkins! Quattlewich! Mr. 
Theophilus Quattlewich! Oh! the old fellow! Ha! ha! ha! 
Exeunt Aunt Sally, Mrs. Junkingson, and Mrs. Dokkins. 

Sprig. Melissa! let me enjoy the pleasure of biting one of 
your cheeks. 

Mel. Oh dear! Horrid! Horrid! A cannibal! a cannibal! 

Sprig. I only meant to kiss you, my extract of Paradise! 
[Kissing Melissa.'] I love you more than I would a pet rabbit; 
and, after old Quattlewich has been defeated, it would increase 
ray love for you three tons, if you should consent to marry me. 



THE SPIRlTrAIJbT. 43 



Mel. I must go now. [Exit. 

Sprig. Here comes that chum of the angels, the Honorable 
Theophilus Quattlewich. 

Enter Mr. Quattlewich, glancing at a paper. 

Mr. Q. I feel very solemnly. You must leave me alone till 
I recover. I have heard bad news. When we begin to fail, the 
ghosts of the past haunt our dreams of the future. Even I am 
not entirely free from such saddening influences. When I was in 
Central Africa — 

Sprig. Yes, yes! I'll go. Oh! I wouldn't stay here, in 
opposition to your wishes, for the universe. [Exit. 

Mr. Q. Go! you ill-bred youngster. [Reads.] "Died on 
the 25th of last month, at the home of a friend in this 
city, Mrs. Amanda Dorkins, wife of Aminidab Dorkins. Since 
the desertion of her husband, some years since, her troubles 
have been great, and she finally committed suicide. Funeral 
to morrow at half-past ten." Glory! my wife is dead. She is 
too dead to see dress-goods. Beloved spirit of my deceased 
grandmother, I thank thee for this blessing! During her earth- 
life, my grandmother appreciated me, and therefore I do not 
forget her. I would have married Melissa if I had not heard 
this delightful news; but now all obstacles are removed. I'll 
destroy this paper; because it is not one of the leading papers 
of the nation; for I will read only such journals as suit a 
lofty intellect. [Destroys the paper.] 

Enter Mrs. Dorkins. 

Aunt S. What pleases you so nmch? Have you been water- 
ing your railroad stock, and declaring a dividend on the water? 

Mr. Q. Better than that. Mines have been discovered along 
the line of the road, and its business has been doubled. 

Aunt S. The hour for the spiritualistic concert has arrived. 



44 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Enter Betson, Gall, Sheldon, Mr. Junkingson, Melissa 
and Others. 

Melissa becomes seated beside Qiuittlewich^ but leaves him after 
the musical seance begins^ and Mrs. Junkingson takes her place. 

Mr, Q. The path which leads to ghost-land is formed in 
ordinary clay. 

Aunt S. The spiritualistic concert will now begin. But first 
of all, the lights must be extinguished. 

Mr. Q. The spirits always produce the sweetest sounds io 
the dark, because light is too coarse for the delicate eyes of our 
dead friends. 

Enter Spriggins disguised to represent Psycho, a devil. 

Lights are made dim, and 7nusical instruments are played; 
while gjiosts angels and fiends glide across the stage, and a weird 
light is occasionally seen. 

Mr. Q. Be careful to admit only ghosts who have high rank 
in the spirit- world, such as my relative's ghosts and tlie spirits of 
famous philosophers, such as Bacon. I should be pleased to 
enlighten Bacon on some philosophical subjects; but you can 
also admit the ghosts of famous composers such as Mozart, if 
they occupied elevated positions during their earth-life; but, if 
the ghost of any poor, strolling musician come, kick the vaga- 
bond out of the room. I'll associate with no common ghosts. 

Atmt 8. Hush! Hush! The ghost of your dead wife is on 
your right and Psycho, one of the rulers of hell is on your 
left. 

Mr. Q. [Aside.] My dead wife! My dead wife! What a 
terrible situation! — the devil on one side of me and my wife 
on the other! 

Aujit S. The sombre ghosts of the dead are coming still 
nearer. 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 45 



Mr. Q. Ask my wife's ghost if she is happy in the spirit 
world. I am much interested in her yet; for I was a devoted 
husband, and was cut to the heart by lier death. 

Aunt S. Your wife says she never was so delighted as she is 
now. One of the angel musicians has broken a fiddle-string; 
but he has gone to heaven for a new one, and will soon return. 

Mr. Q. None but a fool could refuse to believe in modern 
spiritualism, when such evidence is presented. 

PsycJio goes hehind Quattlewich and drops flowers lohich 
fall into Ms lap. 

Mr. Q. Flowers from unseen angel hands fall gently in my 
lap. 

Aunt 8. I see thai the devil is an esthete. " 

Mr. Q. I am expecting the appearance of an angel. 

Enter Mr. Junkingson hearing a clvb, followed by Melissa. 

Mr. JuNKiNGsoN is tipsy, and discovers his wife pretending 
to court Quattlewich, and Quattlewich fl,7ids Psycho entirely 
too near and is horrified. 

Mel. Oh dear! Look at Mr. Quattlewich courting my poor 
mamma! 

Mr. Q. Why! I thought she was Melissa! How came you 
here, Mrs. Junkingson! 

3fr. Junk. You lie! You lewd old scatterbrain, you lie! 
You dare to court my wife; do you? 

3tr. Q. [To Junkingson.'] Don't you dare to strike me with 
that club. I'll smash you as a locomotive would a mouse. 
Where's my cnne? I'll get it. I can' whip five such men as 
you. [Seeking his cane, he falls into the arms of Psycho and 
is horrified; hut gets the cane.] Now face me; you ridiculous 
bumpkin. 

Mr. Junk. Take it sir; take it. [K?iocks Q. down.] 



46 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Mrs. Junk. Good! good! good! \Exeunt. 

Betson. Seize the old bundle of conceit and superstition. 
[Placitig Qaattlewicli on a wheelbarrow, he is wheeled off the 
stage hy Psycho. 



ACT III.— Scene I. 

A Room in Aunt 8ally''s Home in the Village. 

^ Enter Mr. Junkengson. 

Mr. Jnnk. Now that I'm becoming sober, I'll consider this 
matter. [Dri?iking from a bottle.] What brings a devil to my 
house when I'm not supposed to be at home? Maybe he don't 
know that I belong to the Grange, and am one of the Board of 
" Edication," and my great grandfather was a member of the 
Legislature. As for Quattlewich, he sha'n't spark the whole 
family. He must marry Melissa at once, so as to hush the scan- 
dal that might rise about him and my wife. There's something 
in this affair that looks suspicious. 

Enter Aunt Sally, Mrs. Junkingson, Spriggins and Betson. 

Sprig. [To Mr. J.\ Here is a letter, sir. [Giving Mr. J. a 
letter.] 

Mr. J. It's from old Quattlewich, and is an answer to a note 
that 1 sent him; and I'll read it. [Reads.] "Mr. Junkingson: 
Dear sir: I never in my life found myself placed in such an 
awkward situation as you caught me in recently. I had no idea 
that your wife was particularly partial to me; altho I had 
no doubt that she regarded me with favor, as the ladies gener- 
ally do. Still there was no secret understanding between us; 
and I did not suppose that she was in the room when you came 
in. I had supposed that your enchanting daughter Melissa was 
enjoying the distinguishing marks of my favor at the time. You 
can then judge what horror I felt on discovering your wife 
w^here you found her. It is evident that Psycho, a devil, was in 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 47 



the room at the time; and perhaps he placed your wife where 
you saw her. Ghosts of the dead were also there; and who 
knows what part they took in the strange catastrophe? Alas! 
the ghosts of the dead are so filmy that they melt before the 
full-orbed gaze of man! Though we can see them, if our vision 
be not impertinent. I hope that nothing will prevent the mar- 
riage which was to have been so soon. A man of my talents 
and social position is not captured every day, you know. Taking 
all the circumstances into consideration, I extend to all my 
unqualified forgiveness. Please notify that phenomenon of 
virginal excellence, Melissa, that I am anxious for the consum- 
mation of the nuptial rites. Yours unflinchingly, 

"Honorable THEOPHILUS QUATTLEVVICH, 
"President op the Hod wag & Southwestern Railroad 

"Company and Member of the American Geograph- 

"iCAL Society." 

Mrs. Junk. He has told the truth. The devil is responsible 
for the whole matter. I was lifted up by spirit hands, and was 
carried through the air bodily and deposited where you found 
me. Once there, I was deprived of all power to escape, though 
Mr. Quattlewich did not try to hold me. 

Mr. Junk. Everything is wrong. The weevil is in the wheat; 
the brindle cow intends to have the hollow-horn; and Mrs. 
Junkingson tells queer stories. 

Sprig. There was something mysterious about it; for I tried 
my best to force Mrs. Junkingson away from Quattlewich and 
couldn't; though he didn't hold her; nor did she cling to him. 

Aunt S. I smelled burning brimstone all the time. 

Betson. So did I; and I saw a devil in the room. 

Mr. Junk. The shoes! The shoes! A real devil has a hoof 
and can't wear two shoes; but that fellow had no hoof, and 
therefore he couldn't have been a devil. 

Aunt S. Alas! my poor brother! 

Mrs. J. You don't suppose that in this age of fashion a real 



48 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



devil would show his hoof ! Why no! 3'^ou dear silly creature! 
[Chucking Mr. J.'s chin.] A real devil would be far too shrewd 
for that; for he would know that if he showed a hoof he would 
be denounced as unfashionable, and couldn't catch a sinner once 
a century. You see, my dear, that unless the devil would 
destroy his usefulness, he must wear boots or snoes. 

Mr. Junk. There seems to be reason in what you feay. But 
what a world it is! Even devils can take advantage of styles 
of clothing to ruin us. 

Aunt 8. How strongjy everything smells of brimstone! 

Mr. J. Does it? 

Mrs. J. Why! what a dear gosling! Can't you smell it? 

Sprig. I smell it. {Getting behind Mr. J. he lights a match.] 

Mr. J. I believe I do smell the fumes of brimstone. 

Mrs. J. My poor husband, T hope that you are convinced 
that I did not intend to wrong you, but that I was the victim of 
a devil. Let me kiss you. [Kissing him.] 

Mr. J. My sweet pet cow! I am convinced that you are inno- 
cent. But what troubles we meet! How wrong seems every- 
thing but you ! [Kisses Mrs. J.] [Exeunt. 

SCENE 11. 

A Room in Aunt Sally's Village home. 

Enter Quattlewich, Betson and Aunt Sally. 

Mr. Q. The fact that the spirits of the dead can appear 
proves that the Controller of the dead wishes to convince the 
living that there is a hereafter. 

B. I don't believe in too many ghosts. 

Mr. Q. In one of the battles in which the Pigmies defeated 
the giants, the little folks were led and assisted by unseen 
spirits, as I am convinced. 

Bet. Oh fudge! Why man! you may be slightly mistaken. 

Mr. Q. You don't think that / could be mistaken in such a 
matter, do you? 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 49 



Aunt S. Mr. Quattlewich! do you know that I don't believe 
you ever saw Africa? 

Mr. Q. Never saw Africa! Never saw Africa! Madam your 
tongue is too rude. Of all bores a quiz is the worst. People of 
talent are never quizzes, A genuine genius, on account of- his 
sensibility, may seem little in the eyes of a quiz; but the genius 
knoiDS that the quiz is a pudding-head. 

Aunt S. You never rode up the river Nile on the back of a 
crocodile. You never did, my dear sir; and if you had — 

Mr. Q. What if I had, madam? What if I had? 

Aunt S. I don't know whether the tears which such a queer 
load would have forced the animal to shed could have been 
properly called crocodile tears or not. Ha! ha! ha! [Exit. 

Bet. Aunt Sally is a budget of fun. 

Mr. Q. Some people mistake impudence for brilliancy; and 
she belongs to that unfortunate class. She reads biography, 
poetry, and history; but what does she know about philosophy? 
What does she know about philosophy, I say. 

3Ir. B. Did you hear many queer notions expressed by the 
natives of Africa? 

Mr. Q. I did, sir; and I published them in an entertaining 
book which I wrote; but I am rejoiced to think that /am not 
superstitious. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother! I 
thank thee that I am not superstitious! 

Bet. Give me an account of some of their superstitions, if 
you please. 

J/r. Q. When I was in the Soudan, I learned that the 
Mohammedans of that benighted region supposed that the 
spirits of living old women entered hyenas, at times. 

Bet. But did they suppose that the spirits of hyenas ever got 
into the old women? 

3fr. Q. No sir; but why do you ask? 

B. Because, sir„ that would account for my dead wife's 
mother. 



50 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Mr. Q. The much-abused mothers-in-law are frequently the 
noblest of women. There's Mrs. Junkingson, who will be my 
mother-in-law after my marriage with Melissa; if without dero- 
gation from dignity I may use so familiar a term, I should say 
that she's a daisy, sir — a daisy — a daisy. She's a little skittish; 
but she's a daisy. 

Bet. What! You marry Melissa! Why! sir; Mr. Junkingson 
promised me her hand the very day that my first wife died. 

Mr. Q. He was drunk at time, sir, and has changed his 
mind since. Besides, sir, Melissa has become an earnest admirer 
of me. 

Bet. She'll never marry you after she hears your real history. 

Mr. Q. You vulgarian! You filthy boor! I'll inflict proper 
chastisement on your corporeal frame. [Beats Betson. 

Bet. That's enough, sir! A man who owns five farms and 
has represented constituents as a legislator shouldn't be beaten. 
I'll send you a challenge, sir. 

Mr. Q. And I'll not accept the same, because I never fight 
my inferiors. 

Bet. I'll have you fined in the sum of five dollars, sir. 

Mr. Q. Stop! stop! I'll pay no fines. I'll flight you. 

Bet. All right, sir. [Exit. 

Mr. Q. Contact with vulgarians is a poor school for self-* 
respect. He'll send no challenge; though I wish he would; for 
I'd rather be shot at than fined five dollars. Five dollars! Ah! 
money is a cash article. 

Enter Spriggins. 

Sprig. Here is a challenge from Mr. Betson. He wrote it 
after the first beating which you gave him ; ^nd asked me to be 
his second. [Giving Q. a note.] He thinks you are so unu- 
sually brilliant that he would like to take an observation of you 
through the sights of a rifle. 

Mr. Q. I'm willing; for I learned the use of weapons while 
in Africa. He, who refuses to defend his honor, will soon have 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 51 



no honor to defend. We'll fight with pistols; and Sheldon shall 
be my second. I would choose bowie knives, if the bowie- 
knife were not a vulgar weapon. 

Sprig, Hadn't you better wait till dark? 

Mr. Q. No, sir. Why do you wish us to wait till dark? 

Sprig. Because you couldn't hit each other iu broad day- 
light. 

Mr. Q. That's an animadversion on my marksmanship. 
Sir, I never allow others such animadversions about me; and I 
never am guilty of animadversion concerning them. I do 
not love animadversion. 

Sprig. Are you a good shot? 

3Ir. Q. I do not exaggerate, when I tell you that I am 
undoubtedly the best marksman in the State. I always draw a 
bead on the right eje of a squirrel, and would consider it a 
proof of poor marksmanship if I should hit the left. 

Sprig. I suppose that, no matter how small the object is at 
which you aim, when you draw a bead on it your fine eye does 
the business; that is, your success is all in your eye. 

Mr. Q. It is my boy! It is! Observe the delicate beauty of 
the lines which inclose my visual orbs? Are they not as exact 
as geometrician ever drew? See what sagacity is pictured iu 
my eyes! — what penetrating power! 

Sjyrig. Duelling is a violation of the law. If you wound 
Betson you may be punished; but if you kill him you will 
endanger your neck; and you might have trouble in getting 
another; for necks are scarce iu the market. If your pistol 
*' hangs fire," it is barely possible that you will not hang. 

Mr. Q. Sir, they w^ould not dare to hang me. I do not 
occupy a common position in society ; and I am a gentleman of 
spirit. 



53 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Spriq. There can be no doubt that, if you kill Betson, you 
will be 7dgh strung. 

Mr. Q. I'll have one shot at least. 

Sprig. I am Betson's second ; but I Avant a laugh at his 
expense, because he beat me once. If you are not hit at the 
first fire pretend that you arl", and fall flatly; and we will con- 
viuce Betson that he's killed you; and he will be so scared that 
he will leave the State to avoid arrest; and, when he comes 
back, the whole country will laugh at him. 

Mr. Q. Young man! it is utterly impossible that I should 
miss him. He will drop like a ten-pin, at the first fire. 

Sprig. Well! well! Only promise to fall at the first fire if 
you be not struck. 

Mr. Q. Sir, I will not agree to bring my finely propotioned 
corporeal frame in rude contact with auy portion of the terres- 
trial globe. 

Sprig. You ought to agree to fall at the first fire, if you are 
not struck. 

Mr Q. You amaze me, sir. Why should I drop ? 

Sprig. Because Betson is a dead shot; and it will be your 
07ily chance to "get the drop on him." 

3Ir. Q. No sir; I'll stand and shoot. 

Sprig. All right, sir;, if you stand up and shoot till you 
wound Betson or kill him, it may prove a costly job for you in 
the courts. 

Mr. Q. Ah! that's so. Ah! I think that I'll agree to fall at 
the first fire if I be not struck; but it is not necessary for 
Betson to make a similar arrangement; for I never miss my 
mark; and he'll tumble when my weapon blazes. {B.vit. 

Sprig. Astonishing! A duel! Why there hasn't been a duel 
in this neighborhood since my great-grandfather was knee-high 
to a Shanghai fowl. Like many duelists, Quattlewich has more 
courage than judgment. 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 53 

Enter Betson. 

Bet. Sir, I am at your disposal; my will has been made. • 

Sprig. You shoulclu't fight; the law holds the triumphant 
duelist as a murderer. 

Betson. Load my pistol; I'll back down from no violent, 
conceited, gullible, selfish, heartless, superstitious monopolist. 
Though I am not a good shot, I'll hit him if I can. 

Sprig. You may have one shot at him, provided you agree 
to fail at the first fire if you are not struck. 

Bet. "What an odd idea! What is your object? 

Sprig. Quattlewich will think that he has killed you; and 
lie will be so scared that he will run aw^ay to prevent arrest; and 
when he comes back, the whole country will laugh at him. 

Bet. All right. If I'm not struck at the first fire I'll pretend 
to be, and fall flatly. Anything to get the laugh on Quattle- 
wich. 

Sprig. Wouldn't it be better to wait till dark? 

Bet. No, sir; why do you ask? 

Sprig. Because people couldn't see you running away from 
each other, if it were night. 

Bet. They couldn't see us in the daytime. 

Sprig. Why, sir? 

Bet. Because we would run so fast. Hal ha! ha! [Exit. 

Sprig. Ah! things are working like a steam Irishman. 
Finely! Finely! Finely! 

Enter Sheldon. 

Shel. What sort of business is this? A duel! Are we return- 
ing to the trial by combat, and the ignorance, brutality and 
tomfoolery of the dark ages? 

Sprig. It seems so; but I'll bear no part in a real duel; for I 
am not anxious to enjoj'' the hospitality of the State at that 
delightful suburban retreat they call the penitentiaiy. Ifs too 
retired for a man of my active temperament. 



54 THE SPmiTUALTST. 



Shel. I don't want to be mixed up in a duel, because it 
looks too ridiculous; besides the principals are so awkward that 
the seconds are in more danger than the principals; and I wish 
I hadn't agreed to act as an assistant. 

Sprig. I don't belong to the mineral kingdom; and therefore 
I don't wish to be filled full of lead. Quattlewich is a spiritual- 
ist, and if the devil gets mixed in this duel, who can predict the 
result. Ha! ha! ha! 

Shel. Well, sir, I'm a spiritualist myself; but I'm not quite a 
dunce, though Quattlewich is one. 

Sprig. I've made an arrangement with each, by which they 
will fall at the first fire, if they be not struck. Now we will put 
no bullets in the pistols; and of course neither can be struck; 
and people w^ho hear of the affair will believe that they were so 
scared that they couldn't stand; and there will be no end of the 
laughter. How it will amuse the women! 

Shel. The women will faint if pistols are mentioued. 

Sprig. The women have gone to a neighbor's. Let's load the 
pistols. [Producing pistols.] 

Shel. Load it is. [Taking a pistol.] You see, here are noth- 
ing but powder and paper; and I put them in Quattlewich's 
pistol. 

Sprig. You see that I have nothing but powder and paper; 
and I put them in Betson's heavy artillery. They're horse- 
pistols, and I hope they'll kick. 

Shel. The pistols are as harmless as robins; and the fools 
will not be hurt. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. 

In Mr. Junkingson's Garden. 
Enter Quattlewich, Betson, Spriggins and Sheldon. 
Sprig. I'll place my principal in position to fire. [Places 
Betson.] 
Bet. I would shoot better from a rest. Say— say— say you, 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 55 



Mr. Sprig— Spriggins! couldn't you place me where I'd have a 
resl? — behind a tree for instance? 

Sprig. Sir, I didn't know that you were a wooden man. 

Bet. 1 devoutly wish I was a wooden man; the bullets 
wouldn't hurt me then. 

Sprig. If Quattlewich should aim at your heart, present your 
backbone to receive the shot. 

Bet. My backbone! My backbone! Oh, I can feel my back- 
bone going. \^Feels his back.] Yes; I have no backbone. 

Sprig. You don't seem to have much. That's a fact. Cheer 
up Betson! you'll be an angel in five minutes after the pistols 
crack . 

Bet. A.U angel! An angel! Oh! 1 don't want to be an angel. 
Ah! I am entirely too lean for an angel. 

Sprig. I think you could fly more readily than if you were 
fat. 

Bet. Oh yes! I'm willing to fly! 

Sprig. I see you are. 

Bet. Couldn't we settle this by a game of euchre? I'll let 
the Honorable Mr. Quattlewich have both bowers. I am reason- 
ably skillful with my fists; but this leaden business is entirely 
new^ to me. Oh dear! I am afraid of the bul— but — bullets. 

Sprig. I see that I must doctor his courage; for, if I don't, 
the game is up. [Whispers to Betson. 

Bet. Oh yes! I was only pretending to be scared; I met 
an old army friend as I was coming here, and we found a 
saloon where the mint- julep was unusually strong; and the 
liquor has made me somewhat mischievous. You know I have 
helped support the Coldvvater battery when the shots were whis- 
pering in our ears in a manner that was strictly confidential. 
Though, I am not remarkably brave, I have dressed on the 
colors, ordered arms and fixed bayonets, on fourteen battlefields. 
Yes, sir; I have been under fire in quite a number of battles. 
There was something about it that I didn't like, and something 



56 THE SriKlTUALlST. 



that I did. Mr. Quattlewich, which button of your vest shall I 
hit. 

Mr. Q. I refuse to communicate with so insignificant an indi- 
vidual, exceept through my second. 

JShel. I'll place my principal in position. [Placing Mr. Q.] 

3Ir. Q. [Aside.] I crave unseen spiritual help to guide my 
bullets. [Aloud. \ I think that the lock is all right. An atten- 
tion to details should not be beneath the consideration of philos- 
ophy. Philosophy is the science of nature; therefore he who 
is most natural is the greatest philosopher. I shall hit a ven- 
tricle of his heart, if my weapon does its w^ork properly; tho I 
do not have perfect confidence in this pistol. [Aside.] Sprig- 
gins, if I should fail to hit him, through the fault of my 
weapon, and be accidentally killed myself, give me a funeral 
regardless of expense, for money could be of no value to my 
ghost; but, if I should be wounded, get Doctor Stumpleton, of 
Snaggletow^n, to attend me; for he always doctors cheaply. 
[Aloud.] When I was among the savage Niam-Niam — 
J. [Cocking Jiis i^istol.] 

Sprig. [Aside.] I do believe that Quattlewich was in Africa. 
[Aloud.] When I say THREE, fire. Gentlemen! are you ready? 

Mr. Q. Ready! aye, ready sir! 

Bet. If I fall, I desire to be buried beside my wife and 
child. I'm ready. 

Sprig. One! Two! THREE! 

They fire simidtaneouslg, and each, finding he is not hurt, 
falls headlong. 

Sprig. Good bye! my chivalrous paladins! [Seizing the 
pistols.] Good-bye! [Exit. 

Enter Melissa, Bartlett, Mr. Junkingson, Gall and Aunt 
Sally. 

Mel. Dead! Dead! Dead! [Kneels in prayer. 

Aunt S. Bring a bucket of water "and dash it on them; for 
they've fainted from fright. 



THE SriRITUALlST. 57 



Bart. Here comes Sheldon with a bucket full of water. 
Eater Sheldon. 

8hel. Here's the life-preserving liquid. 

Bet. Quattlewich! are you dead ? 

Mr. Q. Sir, I refuse to answer your question. 

Bart. Betson, did you observe anything about Quattlewich's 
bullet that was peculiarly striking? 

Bet. Quattlewich couldn't hit the Empire Hotel, at fifteen 
paces. 

Gall. I am invested with the authority of law, and I order 
you to seize them; because they're dangerous men; they are 
duelists. [Overpowering and handcuffing them. 

Aimt S. There were no bullets in the w^eapons; and the 
heroes were so scared that they couldn't stand. 

Mr. J. There was something wrong about it. There were 
no bullets in the w^eapous. 

Bet. [To Mr. Q.] You bloated monopolist! you played a 
trick on me; for you fell when you were not struck. It was a 
cowardly trick. 

Mr. Q. You did the same thing, and it was the trick of a 
venomous poltroon. You shall never marry Melissa; for she is 
mine. 

Bet. You ridiculous scoundrel. She is mine. 

3Ir. Q. Contemptible vulgarian! Melissa belongs to me. 

[Beats Betson. 
Bet. Oh, you earth-worm! [Beats Q. 

Enter Mrs. Junkingson. 

Mrs. J. I'll enforce order on these premises. I'll show you 
who owns my daughter Melissa. 

[Beats both her intending sonsin laic. 



58 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



ACT IV.— Scene I. 

At Aunt Sally's Village Home. 
A hammock stretched between trees^ near a hive. 

Enter Mr. Quattlewich. 
Mr. Q. Hem! hem! My opinion of Mrs. Juukiugson lias 
been considerably modified by recent events. Mrs. Juukingsou 
is not a daisy. If she's a plant at all, she's a skunk-cabbage. 
She's a coarse, violent, deceitful v^'oman. I can whip Mrs. 
JunkingsoD. [Proclucing a note.] Here is an invitation to 
attend a party at old Mudwhacker's. I'll not go. They are too 
common. Mudwhacker's folks admit common gho.sts to their 
seances; they are in moderate circumstances, and the head of 
the family knows nothing of philoso|)hy. A line must be drawn 
somewhere and sometime. I'll draw it now. After next week 
I'll associate with no man, unless his property be valued at five 
million dollars and he be a gentleman of philosophical attain- 
ments. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother! I am 
thankful that I entertain correct views of this subject. How 
much philosophy we find in books! how little there is in every- 
day life! Yet I am generally philosophical. 

Enter Mrs. Junkingson. 

3Irs. J. Sir, I beg that you will forgive that outburst of 
my temper. 

Mr. Q. Madam! I shall consider the matter at my leisure. 

3l7's. J. My daughter, Melissa, has just become heir to 
a large tract of land in Podweather county. 

Mr Q. Forgive you, madam! Forgive you! You are a 
woman of unusual talents, beauty and refinement; and you are 
the mother of my dear Melissa. How could 1 keep in [my 
bosom so base a passion as hatred. When I w^as among the 



THE SriRlTUALIi^T. 59 



savage Niam-Niam {gnam-gnam), I observed that Love was 
rude, but still triumphant. Forgiveness is a quality which 
is a characteristic of greatness. I do not exaggerate when 1 
tell you that I can forgive. 

Mrs. J. Are you a philosopher, sir? 

Mr. Q. I have the quality called modesty ; and it is a well- 
known fact that modest people are generally gifted; but ask my 
acquaintances what I am, madam, I should not add emphasis to 
their statements. 

3Irs. J. You were not very philosophical at the last spirit- 
ualistic seance. 

Mr. Q. That is true. In the presence of that which is really 
supernatural, Philosophy finds no tongue. 

Enter Mr. Junkingson. 

Mr. J. Forgive my violence, sir. Unfortunately I was 
drunk. 

Mr. Q. Never mention it sir; I grant you my unqualified 
forgiveness. 

Mr. J. You shall marry Melissa; for you are a very wise, 
brave, and unselfish man. \_Exeunt Mr. and Mrs. Junkingson. 

Mr. Q. I'll rest in this hammock. I see that it is too near 
the hive, but the bee is a peaceable animal generally unless 
disturbed. [Ooi7ig into tJie hammock.] I hope that the ghost of 
Plato and Aristotle will come to me in dreams; and bring with 
them the spirit of some distinguished musician. [Snores. 

Enter Spriggins and Aunt Sally. 
Sprig. The old scoundrel snores. The sounds which he 
makes resemble a concert of bullfrogs. 
Aunt S. Stir him up, Spriggins. 
Sprig. I'll upset the hive. 
Aunt S. Oh! Spriggins! I am delighted. 



60 THE SPIRITUALIST . 



Sprig, Thinking of this sport does tickle me. {II2:) sets the 
hive.] [Exit. 

Mr. Q. [Awaking.] What's this? What's this? Bees! bees! 
bees! How they sting! My eyes! My nose! My cheeks! Oh! 
curse the bees. [Exit. 

SCENE II. 
At Mr. Janking son's 
Enter Melissa and Quattlewich. 

Mel. Why did you behave so toward my poor mamma, at 
the spiritualistic concert? 

Mr. Q. You must take the circumstances into consideration. 
There was a devil iu the room; and you couldn't expect a man 
under Satanic influences to act rationally. 

Mel. Oh dear! what kind of a devil ? 

Mr. Q. A bad kind, my dear. Avery bad kind, judging from 
results; and that standard of judgment is a philosophical one. 
Results are the footprints of the Deity. Even the savage Niam- 
Niam [gnam-gnani] judge everything by results. 

Mel. I hope you and ma will not run away together. 

Mr. Q. My dear Melissa! how can you be so mistaken ? Do 
you think that a gentleman, who confers dignity on the exalted 
office of President of the Hodwag & Southwestern Railroad 
Company, could so far forget himself as to abscond with another 
man's wife! 

Mel. Oh, dear! I don't know. I don't believe that railroad 
presidents are all saints. 

Mr. Q. Not all of them, my dear; but some of them — S07ne 
of them. 

Mel. I'm not so sure about that. They 7nay be. 

Mr. Q. Do you think that a railroad president could inter- 



fere with a female of any kind? 

3fel. [solemnly] Yes, I d< 
cowcatchers on all the trains. 



3Iel. [solemnly] Yes, I do; for I have heard that they have 
Q all 1 " 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 61 



Mr. ^. You cause me to lose patience, my dear. You cause 
me to lose patience. I referred to the human race alone. 

Mel. Do you believe that you actually saw a devil at the last 
seance ? 

Mr. Q. I believe ; therefore I behold ; but unbelief is always 
punished by a want of vision. 

Mel. Have you been reading the papers lately ? 

Mr. Q. I have ; and I read that the Russian prince Roman- 
noze-off is dead. 

Mel. Oh dear! Another one of us gone! 

Mr. Q. [Aside.] What a simpleton Melissa is! [Aloud.] 
My darling, is your city property in good condition ? 

3Iel. Yes, sir. 

Mr. Q. My darling! let us marry at once. 

Mel. Do you love moonlight and owls ? 

Mr. Q. Ah, my darling! the owl, whooping in the distance, 
brings mournful sweet fancies. The owl is frequently possessed 
of the spirit of some old philosopher. 

Mel. When I was little, I loved owls because they can't scold. 

3Ir. Q. I will unbend! In matters of love, only fools are phi- 
losophers. My darling! do you love me as much as you would 
an owl ? 

Mel. Oh dear! yes; I love you as much as I would three owls. 

Mr. Q. Let us embrace. [Etnbracing Melissa. 

Enter Aunt Sally, Betson, Spriggins, Mr. and Mrs. Junk- 

INGSON. 

Mr. Q, turns aside, and Spriggins kisses Melissa. 

Aunt Sally. Well, Mr. Quattlewich, how do you feel since 
the duel ? 

Mr. Q. Madam! you must not mention that unfortunate 
affair in my presence. 

Bet. Mr. Quattlewich! would it not be the better course to 
acknowledge that this yonker beat us both; and drink his health 
in mint-julep ? 



62 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Mr. Q. I am willing to forgive you, sir ; but I can not indulge 
in the injurious potation to which you refer. 

Bet. We will let the difficulty drop as flatly as ice did in the 
duel. 

Mr. Q. You have my unqualified forgiveness. 

Aunt S. Mr. Quattlewicn! shall we have a materializing 
seance ? 

Mr. Q. Aunt Sally, as people call you, I am willing. As 
you can cause the souls of the dead to take the shape of human 
beings and be visible to our eyes, let them appear ; but I want 
no glimmering ghosts of dead friends, and no ghosts who do 
not occupy high positions in the spirit world. There is com- 
fort in the grip of an embodied ghost, if the ghost be respect- 
able. 

Aunt S. I'll place no confidence in any revelation from the 
world of spirits, unless I be sure it's from a good spirit. 

Mr. J. I fear that my first wife might come back. Oh! but 
she had a horrible temper. Everything is wrong. The weevil 
is in the wheat; the brindle cow intends to have the hollow 
horn; and my first wife is coming to visit me. 

Annt S. Fudge! She was a woman of too much sense to 
desire to revisit you. 

Mrs. J. {Aside.'] I do wish that Junkingson's first wife would 
come from the dead. I want to see who she was that was silly 
enough to marry Junkingson. 

Mr. Q. Materialization is a telescope w^hich enables human 
beings to understand that which is incomprehensible. 

Aunt 8. You never made a wiser remark than that. 

Mr. Q. Let my deceased grandmother's ghost appear; but 
keep my wife's ghost and my mother-in-law's ghost out of the 
room; because I don't wish to disturb the poor dear souls; and 
do you keep Psycho away. 

Aunt 8. I'll do as you request, and enter the cabinet. 

[Entering the cabinet. 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 63 



Mr. Q. Turn down the lamps. The. spirits which will be 
here to-night will probably prefer the darkness, on account of 
a diffidence which frequently accompanies merit, [ylsu^e.] 
Confound the extravagance of these people; the kerosene that 
I must pay for to-night will cost at least ten cents. 

Aunt S. [In tJie cabinet.'] I feel thy presence, oh mysterious 
ghost! Take possession of my poor frame. 

Enter Mrs. Dorkins, from the Cabinet. 

Mrs. D. Thou heartless husband and unfeeling father! I 
have come from the horrors of perdition, to charge you with my 
ruin. After you deserted our children and me, grief and rage 
and the wails of our suffering offspring caused me to kill myself^ 
To my pangs are now added the torments inflicted by hideous 
goblins. Oh! what agonies are found in the nethermost hell! 
My false husband! there is a future for you, wild with the groans 
of the tortured dead. 

J/r. Q. I didn't mean to desert you. That is — Oh! ghost! 

[Falling on the floor. 
\ Exeunt. 

SCENE III. 

At the Empire Hotel. 
Enter Melissa and Quattlewich. 

Mr. Q. Melissa! that was not my wife's ghost. It was an 
evil spirit disguised as my wife. 

Mel. Did it resemble her ? 

Mr. Q. Ah! it looked just as she did during her earth-life. 

Mel. Maybe you were mistaken ; and it was not a ghost. 

3Ir Q. That is utterly impossible. Did you hear any one 
tell what the opinion of Professor Longwhiue was ? • 

Mel. No; but I heard Aunt Sally say he was not a man of 
remarkable genius. 



64 THE SPmiTUALTST. 



Mr. Q, Not a man of remarkable genius! Not remarkable! 
Ha! lia! ha! 

Mel. Why do you laugh ? 

Mr. Q. Why! Longwhine is a coufidante of mine. She 
don't thiuk that 1 would take a common person into my confi- 
dence; does she! Ha! ha! ha! 

Mel. Do your eyes bother you ? 

3Ir. Q. Oh! oh! They bother me now. Curse all bees! 
Curse all bees, I say. I'll never eat honey again. My sore 
face will interfere with our wedding. 

Mel. Pa says it shall not interfere. 

Mr. Q. I'll not marry when I am in such a plight. 

Mel. Oh dear! horrid! Pa says you must marry me at once, 
so as to silence the scandal about you and my mother. My pa 
says that if you don't marry me to-night, I shall marry Sprig- 
gins to-morrow. 

Mr. Q. That is enough. Spriggins shall never marry my 
afiiauced. But, come to thiuk, this is the very night which 
the Millerites say will witness the end of the world; and there 
will be no end of confusion and alarm. 

Enter Mr. Junkingson, Aunt Sally and Spriggins. 

Aunt S. If you should marry before the end of the world, 
people would say that the marriage caused the destruction of 
mankind ; but if you postpone the wedding till after the end of 
the world, you might have trouble in finding a minister or 
Justice-of-the-Peace to unite you. Therefore I find no trouble 
in believing that the best time for such a match is the very 
hour when the world ends. 

Mr. J. Melissa! do you go home and put your hair in curl* 
ing papers, so as to be ready for the end of the world when it 
comes. 



THE SPIRITUALIST. 65 



Sprig. I'll go home, and will my real estate to Beelzebub, so 
as to secure his good will before that event. 

Mr. Q. Aunt Sally! as people somewhat unceremoniously 
denominate you, have you learned from Professor Longwhine 
what news he has received from the world of spirits lately? 

Avtit S. Yes sir. He says that the ghost of a dead iron- 
monger stated that \ou would be employed in the iron-works in 
the next world. 

Mr. Q. Oh! oh! oh! Oh! what an uncongenial business for 
a man of my refinement. Oh! oh! oh! 

Aunt S. If you should be in the iron works, you would at 
least confer substantial benefit on the residents of ghost-land ; 
so you should be cheerful, 

Mr. Of. Everything is wrong. The brindle cow has the 
hollow horn, and Quattlewich is in the iron-works. 

Exeunt Mr. JuNKmosoN, and Spriggins. 

Mel. Shall we have a bridal tour ? 

Mr. Q. Yes, my dear — a beautiful one. We will hitch the 
old horse to the buggy, and take a trip to the village, and return 
the next day. Only let the expense be moderate, and I shall 
not complain. We will be married by Justice Bartlett now. 

Aunt 8. An old friend of mine wishes to act as bridesmaid. 
She is somewhat odd, and would prefer to be unknown and 
closely veileil on the occasion of the marriage, 

Mel. How romantic! 

Mr. Q. A feminine whim, I suppose; but I will not object, 
if the lady moves in the upper circles of society. What is the 
lady's name ? 

Aunt S. That's a secret; for she wishes to remain unknown 
for the present; she is so odd, 

Mr. Q. She can act as bridesmaid. I give our consent. 



66 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Enter Baktlett, Betson, Mrs. Junkingson, Spriggins, Mrs. 
DoRKiNS, Mr. Junkingson and Others. 

Mrs. Dorkins ia closely veiled, and wears a mantle which conceals her 
form from her husband, though she shows her features to the audience. 

Bart. I have come to tie the nuptial knot for you. [^To Q. 

Mr. Q. I am somewhat disturbed mentally; but I shall not 
shrink, sir. When I was in Central Africa, I observed that the 
nuptial customs of the natives were beautifully simple. 

Mr. Q. and Melissa take a position suitable for the ceremony; Spriggins as 
groomsman and Mrs. Dokkins as bridesmaid. 

Bart. You do solemnly swear by the President of the United 
States, the members of the Cabinet, the foreign ambassadors, 
the Supreme Court, and the governors of the several States, 
that you will love cherish and obey each other, so help you 
Hymen. 

Mr. Q. That sounds like a mock ceremony; and I'll have 
nothing to do with it. 

Aunt 8. I assure you, sir, that that is the ceremony author- 
ized by law. 

Bart. It is the ceremony which I have deemed suitable for 
this occasion. I will get the law on the subject and let you 
read it. [Pretends to start for a book of law. 

Mr. Q. Proceed with the ceremony. AVe promise, sir. I 
am deeply read in law, and am probably one of the best judges 
of constitutional law in the United States, though not a 
lawyer by profession. But the petty State laws 1 have properly 
thought beneath my attention ; and will rely on your statement 
regarding them. 

Bart. I pronounce you man and w^oman. 

Mr. Q. That is satisfactory. Melissa and I are much pleased 
with the delicacy and promptness you have shown. [To Mrs. 
Dorkins.'] Pretty lady closely veiled! There is so little beauty 



THE SPIUITUALIST. 6T 



in the yorld that noue of it should be hidden. I have been 
under fire on sixteen battlefields, but never saw a battery more 
dangerous than a lady's eyes. Will you be pleased to gratify 
us by the sight of so much beauty and delicacy ? 

Mrs. D. [Ufiveiling.] Ye5 sir. 

Mr. Q. What! my wife! Mrs. Dorkius! Mrs Quattlewich, 
I should say! Disgusting wretch! I thought that you were dead. 
Did the malicious spirit of some dead harridan induce you to 
come here? Oh! what a donkey is credulity! 

Mrs D. My husband! I wish you much joy. 

Mr. Q. Crush you! Crush you! Yes, I could crush you as 
a lightning train crushes a hedgehog. 

Mrjs. D. My husband, the ceremony was only a mock one; 
return with me to our children aud our dear old home. 

Mr. Q. Never, madam! never! never! You can not be my 
wife after this. 

Mrs. D. Mr. Quattlewich's real name is Amiuidab Dorkins. 

Sprig. Mr. Quattlewich and Mr. Dorkins are so nearly 
related that they should know each other. I will introduce them, 
Mr. Aminidab Dorkins, this is my affectionate friend the Hon- 
orable Theophilus Quattlewich. I can't recommend either one 
to the other. 

Mr. Q. You contemptible yonker! your recommendation 
would be of no value. Where's my cane! I'll cane the whole 
party . 

Bart. If you make a single movement in that direction, I'll 
cause you to be sent to jail, sir. 

Sprig. Mr. Quattlewich! when you return to Central Africa, 
take Psycho, the devil, with you. He will be a good soldier, 
because he has been accustomed to be under fire. 

Mr. Q.' [Aside] Was a man of genius ever so badgered by 
puppies before? 



68 THE SPIRITUALIST. 



Aunt S. What a considerate husband! He loved Uis wife 
so much that he invited her to assist as bridesmaid! 

'inlel. Oh dear! dofi't plague the poor man any more. 

Mrs. D. My husband! since you were at our old home my 
aunt in California bequeathed me property valued at a million 
dollars. These people knew that you hud a living wife; and 
if I had allowed you to marry Melissa in reality, they would 
have sent you to prison for bigamy. I prevented that. Will 
you now return with me ? 

Mr. Q. Never, madam! never. 

Mrs. D. [Producing, a letter. '\ Read this letter from Cali- 
fornia. 

Mr. Q. [After reading ] I am acquainted with the lawyer 
who wrote this. Ah! I see you are indeed wealthy. 

'Mrs. D. Will you go with me ? 

Mr. Q. My darling ! [To Mrs. D.'\ 

Mel. Do you mean me V 

Mr. Q. No; you simpleton! [To Mrs. D.'\ Duplicity is a 
spy that blabs all secrets. I'll not stain the dignity of an honest 
man by an exhibition of deceit. Mrs. Dorkius, I will go with 
you because of my real love for you and our children. [Aside'\ 
Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother! what a blissful 
termination of my sorrows! [Pats Jiis wife' s chin . 

Mrs. D. Mr. Spriggins, who informed me of the real state 
of affairs here should be rewarded. Besides he saved my life, 
at the risk of his own, by gallantly plunging into deep water 
where I was drowning. Take this check on the bank, sir. It 
calls for ten thousand dollars. [Giving check. 

Mr. Q. My darling! the sum is far too large. Give him 
five dollars. 

Mrs. D. It is not too" large a sum. 

Mr. Q. According to your pleasure, madam. [Exit. 



THE SPIRITUALIST, 69 



Sprig. Madam, I am grateful. Do not put your wealth in 
your huebaDcVs hands; for he might desert you again. 

\^Take8 the check 

Mr*'. D. Kever fear. He committed a crime before he left 
home, and I am inducing him to go with me in order to have 
him properly punished. Many spiritualists are honest, but my 
husband is exceptionally bad. 

Sprig. Aunt Sally, don't you wish that somebody w^ould put 
such a check on your ambition. 

{^SJiakes the hank check under Aunt Sally's nose. 

Aunt S. So long as I own the Empire Hotel, my farms and 
village property, I'll be satisfied. 

Sprig. Squire Bartlelt, call here to morrow, and we'll have 
a real ceremony. I'll marry Melissa. 

Mr. J. Oh yes; and you shall have the brindle cow. Come 
to think, you can have the brindle cow^ 

MeL l^AsitW] How sweet! \^Aloud.'\ A kiss, aunt! a kiss! 

Sprip. A kiss, Melissa! a kiss! [Imitatiiig her. 

[Exeunt. 



